he left just before the last hymn was sung. I suppose he went up to
his room, you had better call him to dinner."

"I will," answered the pastor, and going to the hall door, he called
aloud, "Walter, dinner is ready."

"All right father, I will be down in a minute," came back the answer
in a rather faint voice. The pastor turned to his wife and asked, "Do
you think that last medicine is doing him any more good than the others
we have tried?"

His wife raised her sad face to his, and replied, "No, James, I don't
think it is helping him, for he seems to get weaker and more nervous
all the time. I feel that he is losing ground even more rapidly than
I am."

Here Walter entered the room, his face more flushed than usual, and
his father's watchful eye took note of it, but he spoke up cheerfully,
"Just look at that turkey, Walter, isn't it a fine one? See how nice
and evenly it is browned, and the oyster dressing, I'll bet it's fit
for a king."

Walter merely glanced at the turkey, then seated himself beside his
mother.

After the pastor had said grace, he picked up the carving knife and
said, "Now, son, just tell me what piece you like best and I will have
it carved out for you before you can say, Jack Robinson."

"You are very kind, father, but I don't believe I care for any turkey,