nd
blame me."

"I think you may rest easy in your mind about that," the other
responded. "Whatever else he does, he will never want to come within
gunshot of a pulpit again. It came too near murdering him for that."

Alice looked at her doubtfully. "Something came near murdering him, I
know. But it doesn't seem to me that I would say it was the ministry.
And I guess you know pretty well yourself what it was. Of course, I've
never asked any questions, and I've hushed up everybody at Octavius
who tried to quiz me about it--his disappearance and my packing up
and leaving, and all that--and I've never discussed the question with
you--but--"

"No, and there's no good going into it now," put in Sister Soulsby,
with amiable decisiveness. "It's all past and gone. In fact, I hardly
remember much about it now myself. He simply got into deep water, poor
soul, and we've floated him out again, safe and sound. That's all.
But all the same, I was right in what I said. He was a mistake in the
ministry."

"But if you'd known him in previous years," urged Alice, plaintively,
"before we were sent to that awful Octavius. He was the very ideal of
all a young minister should be. People used to simply worship him,
he was such a perfect preacher, and so pure-minded and friendly
with everybody, and threw himself into his work so. It was all that
miserable, contemptible Octavius that did the mischief."

Sister Soulsby slowly shook her head. "If there hadn't been a screw
loose somewhere," she said gently, "Octavius wouldn't have hurt him. No,
take my word for it, he never was the right man for the place. He seemed
to be, no doubt, but he wasn't. When pressure was put on him, it found
out his weak spot like a shot, and pushed on it, and--well, it came near
smashing him, that's all."

"And do you think he'll always be a--a back-slider," mourned Alice.

"For mercy's sake, don't ever try to have him pretend to be anything
else!" exclaimed the other. "The last state of that man would be worse
than the first. You must make up your mind to that. And you mustn't show
that you're nervous about it. You mustn't get nervous! You mustn't be
afraid of things. Just you keep a stiff upper lip, and say you WILL get
along, you WILL be happy. That's your only chance, Alice. He isn't going
to be an angel of light, or a saint, or anything of that sort, and it's
no good expecting it. But he'll be just an average kind of man--a little
sore about some things, a