ay as they sat
before a cheerful open fire in the large grate. It was late in the fall
and the nights were sharp and frosty.

"Are you tired to-night, Philip?" asked his wife.

"Yes, the day has been rather trying. Did you think I was nervous? Did I
preach well?" Philip was not vain in the least. He simply put the
question to satisfy his own exacting demand on himself in preaching. And
there was not a person in the world to whom he would have put such a
question except his wife.

"No, I thought you did splendidly. I felt proud of you. You made some
queer gestures, and once you put one of your hands in your pocket. But
your sermons were both strong and effective; I am sure the people were
impressed. It was very still at both services."

Philip was silent a moment. And his wife went on.

"I am sure we shall like it here, Philip; what do you think?"

"I cannot tell yet. There is very much to do."

"How do you like the church building?"

"It is an easy audience room for my voice. I don't like the arrangement
of the choir over the front door. I think the choir ought to be down on
the platform in front of the people, by the side of the minister."

"That's one of your hobbies, Philip. But the singing was good, didn't
you think so?"

"Yes, the choir is a good one. The congregation didn't seem to sing
much, and I believe in Congregational singing, even when there is a
choir. But we can bring that about in time, I think."

"Now, Philip," said his wife, in some alarm, "you are not going to
meddle with the singing, are you? It will get you into trouble. There is
a musical committee in the church, and such committees are very
sensitive about any interference."

"Well," said Philip, rousing up a little, "the singing is a very
important part of the service. And it seems to me I ought to have
something important to say about it. But you need not fear, Sarah. I'm
not going to try to change everything all at once."

His wife looked at him a little anxiously. She had perfect faith in
Philip's honesty of purpose, but she sometimes had a fear of his
impetuous desire to reform the world. After a little pause she spoke
again, changing the subject.

"What did you think of the congregation, Philip?"

"I enjoyed it. I thought it was very attentive. There was a larger
number out this evening than I had expected."

"Did you like the looks of the people?"

"They were all very nicely dressed."

"Now, Philip, you know that isn'