Dr. Lavendar's face changed; "I hope
you will marry, Fenn," he said, quietly.
At which John Fenn said, "I am married
to my profession; that is enough
for any minister."

"You'll find your profession a mighty
poor housekeeper," said Dr. Lavendar.

It was shortly after this that Mr.
Fenn and his big roan broke through
the snow-drifts and made their way to
Henry Roberts's house. "I must speak
to you alone, sir," he said to the Irvingite,
who, seeing him approaching, had
hastened to open the door for him and
draw him in out of the cold sunshine.

What the caller had to say was brief
and to the point: Why was his daughter
so unkind? John Fenn did not feel now
that the world--which meant Philippa
--hated him. He felt--he could not
help feeling--that she did not even
dislike him; "on the contrary...." So
what reason had she for refusing him?
But old Mr. Roberts shook his head.
"A young female does not have 'reasons,'"
he said. But he was sorry for