hed, whistled a strain of his "whither thou goest" chant
to me and followed me across the lawn to the foot of the poplars. On the
bench surrounding their trunks I found my basket with the fine seam I
was sewing for the Suckling in it and I dropped upon the thick mat of
grass on the very edge of the shadow from the silver branches above and
began to hunt for my thimble, leaving the Jaguar standing over me.

"Stop looking down on me and come tell me what particular religious
incantations were going on from which Charlotte so violently barred me,"
I laughed up at him, as I threw a flat grass cushion a little way from
my skirts, upon which he immediately sank and seemed to curl up at my
feet.

"I had the whole bunch rehearsing the children's part in the dedication
services of our chapel. Do you know that small Sue can really sing? The
rest stagger well but Susan sings. It is delicious. It is going to be
hard on you women folks to hear her chant her responses to me on that
great day." And as he spoke he looked beyond me over to his beautiful
shimmering gray chapel and there was not a glint in his eyes that showed
me he was trying to sound out my intentions about attendance on that
ceremony.

"Please, Mr. Goodloe, don't be serious in saying as you did last night
that you are not going to dedicate your chapel until I--I help you," in
all gentleness I said.

"I can't do it until you come," he answered me with just as great
gentleness and he turned his head away from me, but not before I saw a
glow in his eyes that made me suddenly strong and calm and curiously
humble.

"I--I could go as your guest," I faltered, offering a compromise which I
felt sure would not be accepted.

"I can't, I just can't dedicate the chapel until you echo my ceremony in
your heart," he answered me with his eyes still turned away from me and
looking with the greatest sadness out on Paradise Ridge.

"Why?" I asked with a simple directness that the situation demanded and
with no trace of the coquetry the question might have held.

"Shall I tell you all of the reason with no reservations?" the parson
asked, as he swung around on his mat and faced me, with his eyes looking
straight into mine.

"All," I answered.

"In every community there is one soul which holds the real leadership of
the souls of those surrounding them. God seems to appoint captains of
the regiments of His people to lead them along the way, Christ the
captain of all the hosts.