By the end of another six months Littleton’s work was practically completed.  Only the finishing touches to the interior decoration remained to be done.  The members of Rev. Mr. Glynn’s congregation, including Mrs. Hallett Taylor, were thoroughly satisfied with the appearance of the new church.  It was attractive in its lines, yet it was simple and, consequently, in keeping with the resources of the treasury.  There was no large bill for extras to be audited, as possibly would have been the case had a hard-headed designer like Mr. Pierce been employed.  The committee felt itself entitled to the congratulations of the community.  Nor was the community on the whole disposed to grumble, for home talent had been employed by the architect; under rigorous supervision, to be sure, so that poor material and slap-dash workmanship were out of the question.  Still, payments had been prompt, and Benham was able to admire competent virtue.  The church was a monument of suggestion in various ways, artistic and ethical, and it shone neatly with Babcock varnish.

One morning Selma set forth by agreement with Littleton, in order to inspect some fresco work.  Muriel Grace was ailing slightly, but as she would be home by mid-day, she bade the hired girl be watchful of baby, and kept her appointment.  The child had grown dear to her, for Muriel was a charming little dot, and Selma had already begun to enjoy the maternal delight of human doll dressing, an extravagance in which she was lavishly encouraged by her husband.  Babcock was glad of any excuse to spend money on his daughter, who seemed to him, from day to day, a greater marvel of precocity—­such a child as became Selma’s beauty and cleverness and his own practical common-sense.

Selma was in a pensive frame of mind this morning.  Two days before she had read a paper at the Institute on “Motherhood,” which had been enthusiastically received.  Mrs. Earle had printed a flattering item concerning it in the Benham Sentinel.  It was agreeable to her to be going to meet Littleton, for he was the most interesting masculine figure in her life.  She was sure of Lewis.  He was her husband and she knew herself to be the apple of his eye; but she knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it, and much of what he said grated on her.  She was almost equally sure of Littleton; that is of his admiration.  His companionship was a constant pleasure to her.  As a married woman, and as a Christian and American woman, she desired no more than this.  But on the other hand, she would fain have this admiring companionship continue; and yet it could not.  Littleton had told her the day before that he was going back to New York and that it was doubtful if he would return.  She would miss him.  She would have the Institute and Mrs. Earle still, but her life would be less full.