"I think you wholly unchanged," he answered, so gravely that Katy began to pout as she said: "And you are sorry, I know. Pray, what did you expect of me, and what would you have me be?" "Nothing but what you are--the same Kitty as of old," he answered, his own bright smile breaking all over his sober face. He saw that his manner repelled her, and he tried to be natural, succeeding so well that Katy forgot her first disappointment, and making him sit by her on the sofa, where she could see him distinctly, she poured forth a volley of talk, telling him, among other things, how much afraid of him some of his letters made her--they were so serious and so like a sermon. "You wrote me once that you thought of being a minister," she added. "Why did you change your mind? It must be splendid, I think, to be a young clergyman--invited to so many tea-drinkings, and having all the girls in the parish after you, as they always are after unmarried ministers." Into Morris Grant's eyes there stole a troubled light as he thought how little Katy realized what it was to be a minister of God--to point the people heavenward and teach them the right way. There was a moment's pause, and then he tried to explain to her that he hoped he had not been influenced either by thought of tea-drinking or having the parish girls after him, but rather by an honest desire to choose the sphere in which he could accomplish the most good. "I did not decide rashly," he said, "but after weeks of anxious thought and prayer for guidance I came to the conclusion that in the practice of medicine I could find perhaps as broad a field for good as in the church, and so I decided to go on with my profession--to be a physician of the poor and suffering, speaking to them of Him who came to save, and in this way I shall not labor in vain. Many would seek another place than Silverton and its vicinity, but something told me that my work was here, and so I am content to stay, feeling thankful that my means admit of my waiting for patients, if need be, and at the same time ministering to the wants of those who are needy." Gradually, as he talked, there came into his face a light, born only from the peace which passeth understanding, and the awe-struck Katy crept closer to his side, and, grasping his hand in hers, said, softly: "Dear cousin, what a good man you are, and how silly I must seem to you, thinking you cared for tea-drinkings, or even girls, when, of course, you do not." "Perhaps I do," the doctor replied, slightly pressing the warm, fat hand holding his so fast. "A minister's or a doctor's life would be dreary indeed if there was no one to share it, and I have had my dreams of the girls, or girl, who was some day to brighten up my home." He looked fully at Katy now, but she was thinking of something else, and her next remark was to ask him, rather abruptly, how old he was.