ith all a child's wistful eyes. David
Allan, who happened to drift out that way, found her there and they
visited over the fence. It took David quite a while to tell her what
it all meant, for she was of course a stranger to Green Valley and
Green Valley ways.

Grandma watched her town folk a little mistily that night and expressed
her opinion a little tremulously to Roger Allan.

"Roger, did you ever see a town so chockful of people that you have to
laugh over one minute and cry over the next?"

Nan's father, walking home with her through the quiet streets, stopped
to light a cigar. When it was burning properly he remarked innocently
to his daughter:

"I don't know when I've met so unusually good-looking and likeable a
fellow as this minister chap, Knight."

Nan looked at her father with cold and suspicious eyes and her voice
when she answered was scornful.

"You thought, Mr. Ainslee, that you met the handsomest and most
likeable chap on earth in Yokohama--if you remember," she reminded him
icily.

"Yes, of course--I remember. But I have come to believe that I was
somewhat mistaken in that boy in Yokohama. He lacked something that
this chap has--an elusive quality that is hard to put a name to but
which is one of the big essentials that makes for success."

"Ministers," drawled Nanny wickedly, "have never been noticeably
successful in Green Valley."

"No," admitted her father, "they haven't. And of course it's too bad
the boy's a minister. He's badly handicapped, naturally. Still, I
never remember when I'm with him that he is a parson. It may be that
women feel the same way. And you noticed that he had the good sense
not to wear a frock coat to this informal little wedding. I can't
recall that he has ever worn a frock coat since he's been here. I
think you'd like ministers, Nanny, if they weren't so given to wearing
frock coats. In fact, I'm willing to bet that you are going to like
this wonderful boy from India immensely."

Nanny stood still and faced her father.

"I loathe ministers--in any kind of a coat," she explained firmly.
"And I'll bet no bets with you. Such offers are unseemly in a man of
your years and already apparent grayness. They are, moreover,
detrimental to my morals. I should think you'd be ashamed,--and also
mindful of your former losses and mistaken prophecies."

"Oh," her father assured her, "I admit my losses and mistakes. But I
have by no means lost hope or faith.