Besides," he added, laughing and knocking his
glasses off, "what is the good of having a minister for a husband? She
ought to ask him her theological questions."

"Well, now, you know, father," Lois said, "Helen isn't the sort of woman
to be content just to step into the print her husband's foot has made.
She'll choose what she thinks is solid ground for herself. And she isn't
superficial."

"Oh, no, of course not," the rector began, relenting. "I didn't mean to
be hard on the child. But she mustn't be foolish. I don't want her to
make herself unhappy by getting unsettled in her belief, and that is what
this sort of questioning results in. But I didn't come out to scold
Helen; it just occurred to me that it might be a good thing to send her
that twenty-five dollars I meant to give to domestic missions, and let
her use it for some of her poor people. What?"

"Oh, yes, do!" Lois replied.

"Let me send twenty-five dollars, too!" Dick cried, whipping out a
check-book.

Dr. Howe protested, but Mr. Forsythe insisted that it was a great
pleasure. "Don't you see," he explained, smiling, "if Mrs. Ward will
spend some money for me, it will make my conscience easy for a month;
for, to tell you the truth, doctor, I don't think about poor people any
more than I can help; it's too unpleasant. I'm afraid I'm very selfish."

This was said with such a good-natured look, Dr. Howe could only smile
indulgently. "Ah, well, you're young, and I'm sure your twenty-five
dollars for Helen's poor people will cover a multitude of sins. I fancy
you are not quite so bad as you would have us believe."

Lois watched him draw his check, and was divided between admiration and
an undefined dissatisfaction with herself for feeling admiration for
what really meant so little.

"Thank you very much," the rector said heartily.

"Oh, you're welcome, I'm sure," answered the other.

Dr. Howe folded the check away in a battered leather pocket-book, shiny
on the sides and ragged about the corners, and overflowing with odds and
ends of memoranda and newspaper clippings; a row of fish-hooks was
fastened into the flap, and he stopped to adjust these before he went
into the house to answer Helen's letter.

He snubbed her good-naturedly, telling her not to worry about things
too great for her, but beneath his consciousness there lurked a little
discomfort, or even irritation. Duties which seem dead and buried, and
forgotten, are avenged by the sting of mem