until he could return for
it in the big farm wagon, but Phoebe thought of the highboy as they rode
along the pleasant country roads. She remembered the expression she had
caught on the face of Phares and the remembrance troubled her. She
sought desperately for some topic of conversation that would lead the
man's thoughts from the highboy and prevent the return of the mood she
had discovered at the sale.

"You--Phares," she began confusedly, "you are going to baptize this next
time, Aunt Maria thought."

"Yes."

The preacher looked at the girl. The exhilarating influence of the early
June outdoors was visible in her countenance. Her eyes sparkled, her
cheeks glowed--she seemed the epitome of innocent, happy girlhood. The
vision charmed the preacher and caused the blood to course more swiftly
through his veins, but he bit his lip and steadied his voice to speak
naturally. "Yes, Phoebe, I want to speak to you about that."

"Oh, dear," she thought, "now I _have_ done it! Why did I start him on
that subject!" Some of the excessive color faded from her face and she
looked ahead as he spoke.

"Phoebe, the second Sunday in June I am going to baptize a number of
converts in the Chicques near your home. Are you ready to come with the
rest, and give up the vanities of the world?"

"Oh, Phares, why do you ask me? I can't wear plain clothes while I love
pretty ones. I can't be a hypocrite."

"But surely, Phoebe, you see that a simple life is more conducive to
happiness than a complex, artificial life can possibly be. It is my duty
to strive for the saving of souls and we have been friends so long that
I take a special interest in you and desire to see you safe in the
shelter of the Church."

"Phares, I'll tell you frankly, if I ever wear plain garb it will be
because I _feel_ that it is the right thing for me to do, not because
some person persuades me to."

"Of course, that is the only way to come. But can't you come now?"

"I can't. I hurt you when I say that, but I want you to be my good
friend, as always, in spite of my worldliness. Will you, Phares?"

He opened his lips to speak, but she went on quickly: "Because I am
learning every day how much I need the help and friendship of all my
friends."

He longed to throw down the reins he was holding and tell her what was
in his heart, but something in her manner, her peculiar stress on the
word "friendship" restrained him. She was, after all, only a child. Only
eight