her voice.




CHAPTER II

MANSERS

The introduction of Mrs. David Arnold Duke, née Methodist, to the
members of her husband's Presbyterian flock, was, for the most part,
consummated with grace and dignity. Only one untoward incident
lingered in her memory to cloud her lovely face with annoyance.

In honor of his very first honeymoon, hence his first opportunity to
escort a beautiful and blushing bride to the cozy little manse he had
so painstakingly prepared for her reception, the Reverend David
indulged in the unwonted luxury of a taxicab. And happy in the
consciousness of being absolutely correct as to detail, they were
driven slowly down the beautifully shaded avenues of the Heights, one
of the many charming suburbs of St. Louis,--aware of the scrutiny of
interested eyes from the sheltering curtains of many windows.

Being born and bred in the ministry, Carol acquitted herself properly
before the public eye. But once inside the guarding doors of the
darling manse, secure from the condemning witness of even the least of
the fold, she danced and sang and exulted as the very young, and very
glad, must do to find expression.

Their first dinner in the manse was more of a social triumph than a