Profiles

"AND I hope, Elsie, you will be careful, all the while you are gone, not to soil your hands."

They stood together in the hall, Elsie Burton and her pastor; he had held out his hand to bid her good-by, and added these words which brought a puzzled look to her eyes, and a rich glow of color to her cheeks.

What could Dr. Falconer mean? Elsie glanced swiftly down at her delicate, gracefully shaped hands, and then back to his face; he was not laughing; although there was a smile on his face, it was backed by an earnest gleam in his eyes that meant business. It was not probable that he was trying to rally her a little on the exquisite care which she took of those same hands, always managing to keep them in a state of dainty cleanliness, with the shapely nails of just the right length. No, that was simply absurd! In the first place, all respectable people took as good care of their hands as circumstances would admit, of course; and, in the second place, Dr. Falconer was not the man to rally people in regard to personal habits; he was too intensely in earnest for that, unless, indeed, there was some important end to be gained.