nce and I call Him Christ--the same
Master, though; and my services take me to church to-night. But to-
morrow, if you like, I will come over to your place."

"Get back," said Carrick violently to the dog. "To heel, you beast!"

The fork of the road was in front of them; they paused at the
division of the way.

"Will that suit you?" inquired Mr. Newman. "I can come round after
dinner."

Carrick gave him a look in which contempt, fury, and a certainly
involuntary liking were strangely at war.

"Of all the sanctimonious asses," he said, and broke off. "Good-
night!" he concluded abruptly.

"I'll come, then," said Mr. Newman, smiling. "Good-night, my dear
fellow."

He went off at his deliberate gait, humming to himself the tune of
the last hymn which the children had sung at the Sunday school.
Evening was settling about him on the trees and fields; after the
still heat of the sun, it was like an amen to the day, a vast low
note of organ music. There was a pond gleaming among the trees.

"He leadeth me beside the still waters," he said aloud to himself,
and then Carrick's footsteps were audible behind him. He turned.
Carrick came up swiftly.

"Don't eat much dinner to-morrow night," he said, with immense
seriousness.

"It's more hypnotism, then?" inquired Mr. Newman.

Carrick nodded. "Yes," he said. "But--it's a big thing, all the
same."

He clicked to his dog and went off abruptly, passing with long, jerky
strides into the enveloping stillness of the evening, and Mr. Newman
resumed his homeward walk, taking up his mood of reflective quiet at
the point where Carrick had broken in upon it. He was a man made for
the Sabbath; he breathed its atmosphere of a day consecrated to
observances with a pleasure that was almost sensuous. For him, piety
was that manner of life which gave the quality of Sunday to each
other of the seven days of the week, softening them and rendering
them august with the sense of a great adorable Presence presiding
over their hours.

The curate who disliked Carrick occupied the pulpit that evening; he
preached from half a text, after the manner of curates. "For they
shall see God"--he repeated it in a poignant undertone--he, tall and
young and priestly in his vestments, seen against the dim glory of a
stained window--and Mr. Newman, attentive in his pew, leaned forward
suddenly to hear, like a man touched by excitement.

Carrick's study was one of a pair of rooms he had added to the
f