"Oh, no," Caleb replied, looking quizzically at his wife; "but you're the only old acquaintances I've met since I was married, an' at church I'll meet two or three hundred, an' Claybanks people don't often have any one new to look at an' talk about, an' any surprise of that kind is likely to hit most of 'em powerful hard." "Go very early," Grace suggested, "and sit as far front as possible. Philip and I will break the news to the minister before he reaches the church, and we'll stand outside and tell the people as they arrive, so that they can collect their wits and manners by the time the service ends." "That'll be a great help," said Caleb. Then he drew Grace aside and whispered with a look that was pathetic in its appeal: "Try to make her understand, won't you, that our folks are a good deal nicer than they look? You went through it alone, a few months ago. I saw your face, an' my heart ached for you, but to-day I'm tremblin' for Mary. What do you s'pose she'll think after she's looked around?" "About what I myself did," Grace replied. "I thought, 'I've my husband,' and from that moment Philip was far dearer to me than he had been." "Is that so? Glory! Mary, put on your bonnet. Let's be off for church." XXV--LOOKING AHEAD "WELL, Philip," said Caleb, as the two men met on the piazza before sunrise Monday morning, "as Sunday's gone an' as there's no one here but you an' I, let's talk business a little bit. You mustn't think that my having taken a wife is going to make me an extra drag on you, an' right after a cyclone, too. My salary's enough to support two on the best that Claybanks can provide, an' if you're hard pushed, I can get along without drawin' anythin' for a year, for I've always kept a few hundred ahead against a time when I might break down entirely. I've told Mary how your wife's been in the store a great part of the time, an' there's nothin' that Mary'd like better than to do the same thing, if agreeable to you an' Mrs. Somerton. She's had practical trainin' at it, you know."