daughter believes?" said Dr. Lavendar.
He wiped his forehead with his red bandanna,
for it was a hot day; then he put
his old straw hat very far back on his head
and looked at the young man with a
twinkle in his eye, which, considering
the seriousness of their conversation,
was discomfiting; but, after all, as
John Fenn reminded himself, Dr. Lavendar
was very old, and so might be
forgiven if his mind was lacking in
seriousness. As for his question of
what the daughter believed:
"I think--I hope," said the young
minister, "that she is sound. She comes
to my church quite regularly."
"But she comes to my church quite
irregularly," Dr. Lavendar warned
him; and there was another of those
disconcerting twinkles.

The boy looked at him with honest,
solemn eyes. "I still believe that she
is sound," he said, earnestly.

Dr. Lavendar blew his nose with a flourish
of the red bandanna. "Well, perhaps
she is, perhaps she is," he said, gravely.
But the reassurance of that "perhaps"
did not make for John Fenn's peace of