the
village trail at a loss, and in a fiercely impatient mood.

He had just reached the point where the trail split in two. The one
way traveling due west, and the other up to the new church, and on,
beyond, to the Meeting House.

The inspiration came to him as Peter, of his own accord, turned off up
the hill in the direction of the church. Then he remembered that the
day was Saturday, and on Saturday evening it was Kate's custom to put
the Meeting House in order for the next day's service.

In a moment he bustled his faithful horse, and, taking the grassy side
of the trail for it, to muffle his approach, hurried on toward the
quaint old building.

To his utmost delight he realized that, for once, Fate had decided to
be kind to him. There was a light in one of the windows, and he knew
that nobody but Kate had access to the place at times other than the
hours of service.

In that moment of pleasant anticipation he was suddenly seized by an
almost childish desire to take her unawares. The thought appealed to
him strongly after his long and futile search, and, with this object,
he steadied his horse's gait lest the sound of its plodding hoofs
should betray his approach. Twenty yards from the building he drew up
and dismounted.

Once on foot he made his way across the intervening space and reached
the window. A thin curtain, however, was drawn across it, and, though
the light shone through, the interior remained hidden. So he pressed
on toward the door.

Here he paused. And as he did so the sound of something heavy falling
reached him from within. Kate was evidently moving the heavy benches.
He hesitated only for an instant, then he placed his hand cautiously
on the latch and raised it. In spite of his precautions the heavy old
iron rattled noisily, and again he hesitated. Then, with a thrust, he
pushed the aged door open and passed within.

He stood still, his eyes smiling. Kate was at the far end of the room
on her knees. She was looking round at him with a curious, startled
look in her eyes, which had somehow caught the reflection of the light
from the oil bracket lamp on the floor beside her, and set them
glowing a dull, golden copper. The long strip of coco-matting was
rolled back from the floor, and she seemed to be in the act of
resetting it in its place.

Just for a moment they remained staring at each other. Then Kate
turned back to her work, and finished rolling out the matting.

"I'll be glad, might