of the company were toward him. He crossed to the study table
without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to himself at the eager way
in which they were hanging out of the window.

Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and boyish in
manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit. He had seemed too young
to the deacons when he was appointed to their church, and his keen
enjoyment of outdoor games and other healthful sports robbed him of a
certain dignity in their eyes. Some of the women of the congregation had
been inclined to side with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that
the pastor found so many other interests when he might have been sitting
in dark, stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had
been either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had
gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction of
right, that had only left them floundering. He intended to quit the room
now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset a chair as he turned
from the table. This brought a chorus of exclamations from the women,
who chattering rushed quickly toward him.

"What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?" simpered the widow. "He
dragged me quite to the window."

Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five-foot-six widow and then at
the helpless, red-haired urchin by her side, but he made no comment
beyond offering a chair to each of the women.

"Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued," declared Miss
Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair, adjusted her skirts
for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the parson, who had dutifully
seated himself near the table.

"I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody," whimpered the widow,
with an injured air; "but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What Shall the
Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT." She jerked her hand in
the direction of the window. The band was again playing the "hoochie
coochie."

"Never mind about the choir practice," said Douglas, with a smile. "It
is SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its music. As for that
music out there, it is NOT without its compensations. Why, the small
boys would rather hear that band than the finest church organ in the
world."

"And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you preach,
most likely," snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult to injury for
him to try to CONSOLE her.

"Of course they would; and so would