“Good day, Mr. Letgood,” she spoke with a little air of precise courtesy. “Good day, sir,” replied the Deacon, cordially shaking the proffered hand, while he accompanied his pastor to the street door. The sun was sinking, and some of the glory of the sunset colouring seemed to be reflected in Deacon Hooper's face, as he returned to the drawing-room and said with profound conviction:-- “Isabelle, that man's jest about as good as they make them. He's what I call a real Christian--one that thinks of duty first and himself last. Ef that ain't a Christian, I'd like to know what is.” “Yes,” she rejoined meditatively, as she busied herself arranging the chairs and tidying the sofa into its usual stiff primness; “I guess he's a good man.” And her cheek flushed softly. “Wall,” he went on warmly, “I reckon we ought to do somethin' in this. There ain't no question but he fills the church. Ef we raised the pew-rents we could offer him an increase of salary to stay--I guess that could be done.” “Oh! don't do anything,” exclaimed the wife, as if awaking to the significance of this proposal, “anyway not until he has decided. It would look--mean, don't you think? to offer him somethin' more to stay.” “I don't know but you're right, Isabelle; I don't know but you're right,” repeated her husband thoughtfully. “It'll look better if he decides before hearin' from us. There ain't no harm, though, in thinkin' the thing over and speakin' to the other Deacons about it. I'll kinder find out what they feel.” “Yes,” she replied mechanically, almost as if she had not heard. “Yes, that's all right.” And she slowly straightened the cloth on the centre-table, given over again to her reflections. Mr. Letgood walked home, ate his supper, went to bed and slept that night as only a man does whose nervous system has been exhausted by various and intense emotions. He even said his prayers by rote. And like a child he slept with tightly-clenched fists, for in him, as in the child, the body's claims were predominant. When he awoke next morning, the sun was shining in at his bedroom window, and at once his thoughts went back to the scenes and emotions of the day before. An unusual liveliness of memory enabled him to review the very words which Mrs. Hooper had used. He found nothing to regret. He had certainly gained ground by telling her of the call. The torpor which had come upon him the previous evening formed a complete contrast to the blithesome vigour he now enjoyed. He seemed to himself to be a different man, recreated, as it were, and endowed with fresh springs of life. While he lay in the delightful relaxation and warmth of the bed, and looked at the stream of sunshine which flowed across the room, he became confident that all would go right.