for
luncheon.

Those were golden days to Chester, Lucy, and the Rev. Thomas Strong. Out
of restless uncertainty, doubts, fears, and heart-aching experiences
they now had come to a period of peaceful certainty. Out of straits they
had come to a quiet sun-kissed harbor.

Captain Brown looked on all this happiness approvingly. His shore leave
was going splendidly. The neighbor's horse and carriage were often
brought into requisition, and the father would not be denied his share
of these drives. The captain's own boat, long since unused, was put into
commission, and with the captain at the tiller the whole family sailed
over the placid Mersy. The moon grew rounder, and as the evenings were
warm, the boat often lingered in the moonlight. Then songs were sung,
Chester and Lucy singing some which the father recognized as "Mormon,"
but which the captain knew only as beautiful and full of sweet spirit.

During those days when the visitors remained with the captain rather
more for his own sake than for any other reason, there was just one
little cloud in Chester's and Lucy's sunlight. That was that the father
took no abiding interest in the religion which now meant so much to
them. Once or twice the subject had been carefully broached by Chester,
but each time the father had not responded. He made no objections. The
young man sometimes thought there would be more hope if he did. However,
he and Lucy were not discouraged. They reasoned, with justice, that it
was no easy matter to change a life-long habit of belief and practice.
They comforted each other by the hope that all would be well in the end.
Had they not already ample evidence of God's providence shaping all
things right.

It was plainly to be seen, however, that the father took great comfort
in his new-found son; and well any father might, for Chester was a
strong, open-spirited, clean young man. Father and son strolled out
together, Lucy sometimes peeping at them from behind the curtain, but
denying herself of their company. Chester, by his father's request, told
him more of his life's story. The father wished to live as much as could
be by word-telling the years he had missed in the life of his son; and
the father, for his part, acquainted Chester with his more recent years.
"I married quite late in life," said the father, "a sweet girl who did
much for me. That we had no children was a great disappointment to both
of us, and when we saw that very likely we never w