and always behind hand. I am told they owe a hundred dollars to
their minister now."

"That's too bad," said Jennie.

"And we can't do much if we do join it. I have no time for church
affairs, and you--you have all you can do to attend to your infant
class at home, Jennie."

"That's true," said Jennie.

"Besides it is a Presbyterian church and we are Congregationalists."

Jennie made no reply.

"And I can't bear the idea of leaving the Broadway Tabernacle
church. I was brought up in it. I have been in its Sunday-School
ever since I can recollect. It was dear to me in its old homely
attire as a Congregationalist meeting-house. It is dear to me in its
new aristocratic attire as a Congregationalist cathedral. And Harry
was baptized there. And there are all our dearest and best friends.
It would be like pulling a tooth to uproot from it."

"It is dear to me too, John," said Jennie softly, "for your sake, if
not for my own."

"And all our friends are there, Jennie," continued I. "Except the
Lines and Deacon Goodsole we hardly know anybody here."

"Though I suppose time will cure that," said Jennie.