"Your heart is so big it's a wonder to me that you weren't shot through
it, no matter where you were hit. But I tell you it seems good to see
you in the flesh once more."

"Why didn't you come and preach for me last Sunday?" asked Philip,
quizzically.

"Why, haven't you heard? I did not get news of the affair until last
Saturday in my Western parish, and I was just in the throes of packing
up to come on to Elmdale."

"Elmdale?"

"Yes, I've had a call there. So we shall be neighbors. Mrs. Burke is up
there now getting the house straightened out, and I came right down
here."

"So you are pastor of the Chapel Hill Church? It's a splendid opening
for a young preacher. Congratulations, Alfred."

"Thank you, Philip. By the way, I saw by the paper that you had declined
a call to Elmdale, so I suppose they pitched on me for a second choice.
You never wrote me of their call to you," he said, a little
reproachfully.

"It didn't occur to me," replied Philip, truthfully. "But how are you
going to like it? Isn't it rather a dull old place?"

"Yes, I suspect it is, compared with Milton. I suppose you couldn't live
without the excitement of dodging assassins and murderers every time you