The Rev. Mr. Wynn was engaged in a characteristic hearty parting with
one of his latest converts, upon his own doorstep, with admirable
al fresco effect. He had just clapped him on the shoulder. "Good-by,
good-by, Charley, my boy, and keep in the right path; not up, or down,
or round the gulch, you know--ha, ha!--but straight across lots to
the shining gate." He had raised his voice under the stimulus of a few
admiring spectators, and backed his convert playfully against the wall.
"You see! we're goin' in to win, you bet. Good-by! I'd ask you to step
in and have a chat, but I've got my work to do, and so have you. The
gospel mustn't keep us from that, must it, Charley? Ha, ha!"

The convert (who elsewhere was a profane expressman, and had become
quite imbecile under Mr. Wynn's active heartiness and brotherly
horse-play before spectators) managed, however, to feebly stammer with a
blush something about "Miss Nellie."

"Ah, Nellie. She, too, is at her tasks--trimming her lamp--you know,
the parable of the wise virgins," continued Father Wynn hastily,
fearing that the convert might take the illustration literally. "There,
there--good-by. Keep in the right path." And with a parting shove he
dismissed Charley and entered his own house.

That "wise virgin," Nellie, had evidently finished with the lamp, and
was now going out to meet the bridegroom, as she was fully dressed and
gloved, and had a pink parasol in her hand, as her father entered the
sitting-room. His bluff heartiness seemed to fade away as he removed
his soft, broad-brimmed hat and glanced across the too fresh-looking
apartment. There was a smell of mortar still in the air, and a faint
suggestion that at any moment green grass might appear between the