ked, fixing his eyes upon his old
friend's face.

"I know'd they was a-plannin' somethin', but I never could find out
what, or I would have told you."

A look of relief passed over Brent's face. Just then Mrs. Hodges opened
the door. "Here 's Elizabeth to see him," she said.

"'Sh," said the old man with great ostentation; and tiptoeing over to
the door he partly drew it to, putting his head outside to whisper, "He
is too weak; it ain't best fur him to see nobody now."

He closed the door and returned to his seat. "It was 'Lizabeth," he
said. "Was I right?"

For answer the patient arose from the bed and walked weakly over to his
side.

"Tut, tut, tut, Freddie," said Eliphalet, hesitating over the name. "You
'd better lay down now; you ain't any too strong yet."

The young man leaned heavily on his chair, and looked into his friend's
eyes: "If God had given me such a man as you as a father, or even as a
guardian, I would not have been damned," he said.

"'Sh, 'sh, my boy. Don't say that. You 're goin' to be all right; you
're--you 're--" Eliphalet's eyes were moist, and his voice choked here.
Rising, he suddenly threw his arms around Fred's neck, crying, "You are
my son. God has give you to me to nurse in the time of your trial."

The young man returned the embrace; and so Mrs. Hodges found them when
she opened the door softly and peered in. She closed it noiselessly and
withdrew.

"Well, I never!" she said. There was a questioning wonder in her face.

"I don't know what to make of them two," she added; "they could n't have
been lovin'er ef they had been father and son."

After a while the guests began to arrive for the dinner. Many were the
inquiries and calls for the new minister, but to them all Eliphalet
made the same answer: "He ain't well enough to see folks."

Mrs. Hodges herself did her best to bring him out, or to get him to let
some of the guests in, but he would not. Finally her patience gave way,
and she exclaimed, "Well, now, Frederick Brent, you must know that you
air the pastor of a church, an' you 've got to make some sacrifices for
people's sake. Ef you kin possibly git up,--an' I know you kin,--you
ought to come out an' show yoreself for a little while, anyhow. You 've
got some responsibilities now."

"I did n't ask for them," he answered, coldly. There was a set look
about his lips. "Neither will I come out or see any one. If I am old
enough to be the pastor of a church, I am old enoug