In some of these 'Thusia could help David, and she did help, most willingly, but 'Thusia had her own battles. Like most ministers' wives she had a constant battle to make David's inadequate salary meet the household expenses. When, after one of the usual church quarrels, those in favor of putting the choir in surplices won, 'Thusia was sorry she was not in the choir; her worn Sunday gown would not then be a weekly humiliation. Her hats, poor things! were problems as difficult to finance as a war. The grocer's bill was a monthly catastrophe; “the wood is low again, David,” was an announcement 'Thusia felt was almost unkind. She spent five times as long turning a dress that was no pleasure after it was turned than she should have had to spend getting a new one. The lack of a few dollars to “do with” is the greatest waster of a faithful home-keeper's time. The hope of a call to a church that will pay enough to supply those few dollars is one many ministers' wives cherish. David picked up his hat and waited on his own porch until he saw Mack come from the Mannings' door; then he crossed the street. “'Lo, dominie!” Mack said unsteadily. “Little girl's been giving me Hail Columbia. She's all right, dominie; fine little girl. I'm ashamed of myself. Told you so, didn't I, little girl?” David put his hand on Mack's shoulder. “She _is_ a fine girl, Mack,” he said. “There's no finer girl in America than Amy. Suppose we take a walk, Mack, a good long walk out into the country and tell each other just how fine Amy is.” Mack smiled knowingly. He put a hand on David's shoulder, so that the two men stood like some living statue of “United we stand.” “Couldn't tell all about how fine a little girl she is in _one_ walk,” he said. “Come!” said David. He put his arm through Mack's, and thus he led him away. The assistance was necessary, for Mack was drunker than he had seemed. David led him to the country roads by the shortest route, that passing the cemetery, and when they were beyond the town he walked Mack hard. He let Mack do the talking and kept him talking of Amy, for of what would a lover, drunk or sober, rather talk than of his sweetheart! It was dark and long past David's supper hour when they reached the town again, and David drew Mack into the manse for a “bite.” After they had eaten he led him into the study. Mack was well past the unpleasant stage of his intoxication now, and with 'Thusia sewing in her little, low rocker and Mack in a comfortable chair and David slumped down in his own great chair, they talked of Amy and of a hundred things David knew how to make interesting. It was ten when 'Thusia bade them good-night and went out of the study. “The Mannings are still up,” said David, and Mack turned and looked out of the window. “God, but I am a beast!” said Mack. “You are worse than that, Mack, because you are a man,” said David.