Bayard managed to reach the last platform of the last car as it moved out of the station, and to get his charge to Windover without an accident. He had plenty of time for reflection on the trip; but he reflected as little as possible. With his arm linked firmly through Job’s and his eyes closed, he became a seer of visions, not a thinker of thoughts. Her face leaned out of the carriage window,--faded, formed, and dimmed, and formed again. He saw the velvet on her dress, the little dash of gold color on her purple bonnet, the plain distinguished fashion of her yellow hair about her forehead. He saw the astonishment leap into her brown eyes, and that look which no sibyl could have interpreted, forming about her merry lips. He heard the coachman say, “Shall I drive on, Miss?” And the answer, “Yes, John, drive on. I must not miss the train.” He opened his eyes, and saw the sullen horizon of the sea across the marshes, and the loathsome face of Job leaning against the casement of the car window at his side. By the time they had reached Windover, Slip was sleepy and quite manageable. Bayard consulted his watch. It was the hour for his evening appointment with the officers of the new parish. “_Again!_” he thought. He looked at the drunkard wearily. Then the flash of inspiration fired his tired face. “Come, Job,” he said suddenly. “Never mind our suppers. Come with me.” He took Job as he was,--torpid, sodden, disgusting, a creature of the mud, a problem of the mire. The committee sat in the anxious conclave of people embarked upon a doubtful and unpopular enterprise. Emanuel Bayard pushed Job Slip before him into the pretty parlors of the ex-treasurer of the old First Church. For the treasurer had followed the come-outers. He had joined the poor and humble people who, in fear and faith, had tremblingly organized the experiment for which, as yet, they had no other name than that they gave it in their prayers. Christ’s work, they called it, then. The treasurer was their only man of property. His jaw dropped when he saw Job. “Gentlemen,” said the young pastor, “gentlemen, I have brought you a sample of the material under discussion. What are we going to do with _this_?” VII.