ter was in the best of spirits, for his
charge seemed promising. He looked on at the boy's jovial face, and
laughed within himself; for, mused he, "it is so much harder for the
devil to get into a cheerful heart than into a sullen, gloomy one." By
the time they were ready to go home Harold Dokesbury had received a
promise from 'Lias to attend service the next morning and hear the
sermon.

There was a great jollification over the fish supper that night, and
'Lias and the minister were the heroes of the occasion. The old man
again broke his silence, and recounted, with infinite dryness, ancient
tales of his prowess with rod and line; while Aunt "Ca'line" told of
famous fish suppers that in the bygone days she had cooked for "de white
folks." In the midst of it all, however, 'Lias disappeared. No one had
noticed when he slipped out, but all seemed to become conscious of his
absence about the same time. The talk shifted, and finally simmered into
silence.

When the Rev. Mr. Dokesbury went to bed that night, his charge had not
yet returned.

The young minister woke early on the Sabbath morning, and he may be
forgiven that the prospect of the ordeal through which he had to pass
drove his care for 'Lias out of mind for the first few hours. But as he
walked to church, flanked on one side by Aunt Caroline in the stiffest
of ginghams and on the other by her husband stately in the magnificence
of an antiquated "Jim-swinger," his mind went back to the boy with
sorrow. Where was he? What was he doing? Had the fear of a dull church
service frightened him back to his old habits and haunts? There was a
new sadness at the preacher's heart as he threaded his way down the
crowded church and ascended the rude pulpit.

The church was stiflingly hot, and the morning sun still beat
relentlessly in through the plain windows. The seats were rude wooden
benches, in some instances without backs. To the right, filling the
inner corner, sat the pillars of the church, stern, grim, and critical.
Opposite them, and, like them, in seats at right angles to the main
body, sat the older sisters, some of them dressed with good
old-fashioned simplicity, while others yielding to newer tendencies were
gotten up in gaudy attempts at finery. In the rear seats a dozen or so
much beribboned mulatto girls tittered and giggled, and cast bold
glances at the minister.

The young man sighed as he placed the manuscript of his sermon between
the leaves of the tat