as willing as you are to live on no salary if the grocer and butcher
would continue to feed us for nothing. I wish from the bottom of my
heart that we could live without money."

"It is a bother, isn't it?" replied Philip, so gravely that his wife
laughed heartily at his tone.

"Well, the question is, what to do with the letters," resumed the
minister.

"Which of the two churches do you prefer?" asked his wife.

"I would rather go to the Chapel Hill Church as far as my preference is
concerned."

"Then why not accept their call, if that is the way you feel?"

"Because, while I should like to go to Elmdale, I feel as if I ought to
go to Milton."

"Now, Philip, I don't see why, in a choice of this kind, you don't do as
you feel inclined to do, and accept the call that pleases you most. Why
should ministers be doing what they ought instead of what they like? You
never please yourself."

"Well, Sarah," replied Philip, good-naturedly, "this is the way of it.
The church in Elmdale is in a University town. The atmosphere of the
place is scholastic. You know I passed four years of student life there.
With the exception of the schools, there are not a thousand people in
the village, a quiet, sleepy, dull, retired, studious place. I love the