expect of me, and what would you have me be?"

"Nothing but what you are--the same Kitty as of old," he answered, his
own bright smile breaking all over his sober face.

He saw that his manner repelled her, and he tried to be natural,
succeeding so well that Katy forgot her first disappointment, and making
him sit by her on the sofa, where she could see him distinctly, she
poured forth a volley of talk, telling him, among other things, how much
afraid of him some of his letters made her--they were so serious and so
like a sermon.

"You wrote me once that you thought of being a minister," she added.
"Why did you change your mind? It must be splendid, I think, to be a
young clergyman--invited to so many tea-drinkings, and having all the
girls in the parish after you, as they always are after unmarried
ministers."

Into Morris Grant's eyes there stole a troubled light as he thought how
little Katy realized what it was to be a minister of God--to point the
people heavenward and teach them the right way. There was a moment's
pause, and then he tried to explain to her that he hoped he had not been
influenced either by thought of tea-drinking or having the parish girls
after him, but rather by an honest desire to choose the sphere in which
he could accomplish the most good.

"I did not decide rashly," he said, "but after weeks of anxious thought
and prayer for guidance I came to the conclusion that in the practice of
medicine I could find perhaps as broad a field for good as in the
church, and so I decided to go on with my profession--to be a physician