nswered, with something of a sigh.

"A year!" she gasped. "In a burg like this? You must have an awful lot
of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long." She was wise in
the ways of professional success.

"Not many, I'm afraid." He wondered, for the first time, if this might
be the reason for his rather indifferent success.

"Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?"

"A rep?" he repeated in surprise.

"Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em. Uncle Toby's
got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference in the big towns
where you have a run."

"Oh, I understand," Douglas answered in a tone of relief. "Well, I try
to say something new each Sunday."

"What kind of spiels do you give 'em?" she inquired with growing
interest.

"I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves and to
forget their week-day troubles." He had never had occasion to define his
efforts so minutely.

"Well, that's jes' the same as us," Polly told him with an air of
condescension; "only circuses draws more people 'an churches."

"YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment," Douglas
answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were many tricks in
the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. And, after all, what
was his preaching but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to hold
his congregation by what he was saying, his listeners grew drowsy,
and his sermon fell short of its desired effect. It was true that
his position and hers had points of similarity. She was apparently
successful; as for himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very
hard and that sometimes a tired mother or a sad-faced child looked up at
him with a smile that made the service seem worth while.

Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was
quick to find consolation for him.

"You ain't got all the worst of it," she said. "If we tried to play a
dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You certainly must
give 'em a great show," she added, surveying him with growing interest.

"It doesn't make much difference about the show--" Douglas began, but he
was quickly interrupted.

"That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus. One year ye give 'em
the rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the next year you
hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that the way it is with a
church show?"

"Much the same," Douglas admitted hal