doorway between the two rooms, nodding this way, nodding that, in a
futile effort to keep a semblance of time among the boisterous
worshipers. A short reading from the Bible, a very brief prayer, a
short, conversational story-talk from David, and the meeting broke up
in wild clamor.

Then back through the driving snow they made their way, considering the
evening well worth all the exertion it had required.

Once inside the cozy manse, David and Carol hastily changed into warm
dressing-gowns and slippers and lounged lazily before the big
fireplace, sipping hot coffee, and talking, always talking of the
work,--what must be done to-morrow, what could be arranged for Sunday,
the young people's meeting, the primary department, the mission study
class.

And Carol brought out the big bottle and administered the designated
teaspoonful.

"For you must quit coughing, David," she said. "You ruined two good
points last Sunday by clearing your throat in the middle of a phrase.
And it isn't so easy making points as that."

"Aren't you tired of hearing me preach, Carol? We've been married a
whole year now. Aren't you finding my sermons monotonous?"

"David," she said earnestly, resting her head against his shoulder,
partly for weariness, partly for the pleasure of feeling the rise and
fall of his breast,--"when you go up into the pulpit you look so white
and good, like an apostle or a good angel, it almost frightens me. I