and German at school – all the girls in England – have the same sort of work to do? that they will want it for?"
"No, not all the same. But God never gives the preparation without the occasion."
"Then suppose they do not make the preparation?"
"Then when the occasion comes, they will not be ready for it. When their work is given them to do, they will be found wanting."
"It's so queer!" said Julia.
"What?"
"To think such things about lessons."
"You may think such things about everything. Whatever God gives you, he gives you to use in some way for him."
"But how can I possibly know how, Eleanor?"
"Come to me in the mornings, and you and I will try to find out."
"Did you say, I must please all mamma's notions?"
"Certainly – all you can."
"But I like papa's notions a great deal better than mamma's."
"You must try to meet both," said Eleanor smiling.
"I do not like a great many of mamma's notions. I don't think there is any sense in them."
"But God likes obedience, Julia. He has bid you honour mamma and papa.
Do it for him."
"Do you mean to please all mamma's notions?" said Julia sharply.
"All that I can, certainly."
"Well it is one of her notions that Mr. Carlisle should get you to the Priory after all. Are you going to let her? Are you going to let him, I mean?"
"No."
"Then if it is your duty to please mamma's notions, why mustn't you please this one?"
"Because here I have my duty to others to think of."
"To whom?" said Julia as quick as lightning.
"To myself – and to Mr. Carlisle."
"Mr. Carlisle!" said Julia. "I'll be bound he thinks your duty to him would make you do whatever he likes."
"It happens that I take a different view of the subject."
"But Eleanor, what work do you suppose I have to do in the world, that
I shall want French and German for? real work, I mean?"
"I can't tell. But I know now you have a beautiful example to set?"
"Of what? learning my lessons well?"
"Of whatever is lovely and of good report. Of whatever will please
Jesus."
Julia put her arms round her sister's neck and hid her face there.
"I am going to give you a word to remember to-day; keep it with you, dear. 'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' Just think of that, whether you are busy or not busy. And we will ask the Lord to make us so full of his love, that we cannot help it."
They knelt and prayed together; after which Julia gave her sister a great many earnest caresses; and they went down to breakfast a much comforted pair.
CHAPTER V
IN LONDON
"London makes mirth! but I know God hears
The sobs i' the dark, and the dropping of tears."
The morning meetings were kept up. Julia had always been very fond of her sister; now she almost worshipped her. She would get as close as possible, put her arm round Eleanor's waist, and sometimes lay her head on her shoulder; and so listen to the reading and join in the talking. The talks were always finished with prayer; and at first it not seldom happened that Eleanor's prayer became choked with tears. It happened so often that Julia remarked upon it; and after that it never happened again.
"Eleanor, can you see much use in my learning to dance?" was a question which Julia propounded one morning.
"Not much."
"Mamma says I shall go to dancing school next winter."
"Next winter! What, at Brompton?"
"O we are going to London after we go from here. So mamma says. Why didn't you know it?"
Eleanor remained silent.
"Now what good is that going to do?" Julia went on. "What work is that to fit me for, Eleanor? – dancing parties?"
"I hope it will not fit you for those," the elder sister replied gravely.
"Why not? don't you go to them?"
"I am obliged to go sometimes – I never take part."
"Why not Eleanor? Why don't you? you can dance."
"Read," said Eleanor, pointing to the words. Julia read.
"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus; giving thanks to God and the Father by him.' – Well Eleanor?"
"I cannot find anything I can do in the Lord's service at such places, except to stand by and say by my manner that I do not enjoy them nor approve of them."
"That won't hinder other people enjoying them, though."
"I do not think people enjoy them much. You and I have a hundred times as much fun in one good scamper over the moor. Dear old moor! I wish we were back again. But other people's doing is not my business."
"Then what makes you go, Eleanor?"
"Mamma would be so exceedingly vexed if I did not. I mean to get out of it soon – as soon as I can."
"Do you think you will, in London?"
Eleanor was silent, and thoughtful.
"Well, I know one thing," said Julia, – "I am not going to dancing school. Mamma says it will make me graceful; and I think I am as graceful as other people now – as most other people. I don't think I am as graceful as you are. Don't you think so, Eleanor?"
Eleanor smiled, soberly enough.
"Eleanor, must I go to dancing school?"
"Why do you wish not to go?"
"Because you think it is wrong."
"Darling, you cannot displease mamma for such a reason. You must always honour every wish of hers, except you thought that honouring her would be to dishonour or displease the Lord."
The words were spoken and listened to with intense feeling and earnestness on both sides; and the tears came back in Eleanor's prayer that morning.
With the world at large, things maintained a very unaltered position during the rest of the stay at Brighton. Mr. Carlisle kept
