th
the violin. He was supposed to exert a very desirable influence over
young people and to stimulate their interest in church work. He married
an American girl, and when his father died he got his share of the
property--which was very considerable. He invested his money carefully
and was that rare thing, a preacher of independent means. His white,
well-kept hands were his result,--the evidence that he had worked out
his life successfully in the way that pleased him. His Kansas brothers
hated the sight of his hands.

Larsen liked all the softer things of life,--in so far as he knew about
them. He slept late in the morning, was fussy about his food, and read a
great many novels, preferring sentimental ones. He did not smoke, but he
ate a great deal of candy "for his throat," and always kept a box of
chocolate drops in the upper right-hand drawer of his desk. He always
bought season tickets for the symphony concerts, and he played his
violin for women's culture clubs. He did not wear cuffs, except on
Sunday, because he believed that a free wrist facilitated his violin
practice. When he drilled his choir he always held his hand with the
little and index fingers curved higher than the other two, like a noted
German conductor he had seen. On the whole, the Reverend Larsen was not
an insincere man; he merely spent his life resting and playing, to make
up for the time his forebears had wasted grubbing in the earth. He was
simple-hearted and kind; he enjoyed his candy and his children and his
sacred cantatas. He could work energetically at almost any form of play.

Dr. Archie was deep in "The Lament of Mary Magdalen," when Mr. Larsen
and Thea came back to the study. From the minister's expression he
judged that Thea had succeeded in interesting him.

Mr. Larsen seemed to have forgotten his hostility toward him, and
addressed him frankly as soon as he entered. He stood holding his
violin, and as Thea sat down he pointed to her with his bow:--

"I have just been telling Miss Kronborg that though I cannot promise her
anything permanent, I might give her something for the next few months.
My soprano is a young married woman and is temporarily indisposed. She
would be glad to be excused from her duties for a while. I like Miss
Kronborg's singing very much, and I think she would benefit by the
instruction in my choir. Singing here might very well lead to something
else. We pay our soprano only eight dollars a Sunday, but she alway