I have to be, with such men as you in
my congregation. No; the real trouble
in that household is that girl of his. It
isn't right for a young thing to live in
such an atmosphere."

William agreed sleepily. "Pretty
creature. Wish I had a daughter just
like her," he said, and took himself off
to make up for a broken night's rest.
But Dr. Lavendar and Danny still sat
in front of the lilac-filled fireplace, and
thought of old Henry Roberts listening
for the Voice of God, and of his Philippa.
The father and daughter had lately
taken a house on a road that wandered
over the hills between elderberry-bushes
and under sycamores, from Old Chester
to Perryville. They were about
half-way between the two little towns,
and they did not seem to belong to
either. Perryville's small manufacturing
bustle repelled the silent old man
whom Dr. Lavendar called an "Irvingite";
and Old Chester's dignity and dull
aloofness repelled young Philippa.
The result was that the Robertses and
their one woman servant, Hannah, had
been living on the Perryville pike for
some months before anybody in either