Rachel was laying the table for dinner at the time and looked up quickly at her husband. "Pass that over to me," she said. Luke looked at her a little doubtfully. "Do you think you can manage it?" he asked. Rachel laughed. "Certainly I could. I am a little more intelligent than you give me credit for. Have all the people sent in their accounts?" "No, that's just it. Sargent has never sent in his description of the Temperance Meeting, nor has Mrs. Lent of the Scripture Union Meeting. They are so often late. It means a good long walk as there is no time to send them cards to remind them of their duty. The manuscript ought to go in early to-morrow morning to the printer or the magazine will not be out in time. I should be thankful to have at least two quiet uninterrupted days; but then there are sick people to visit. I don't see how I can." "You can quite well if you will only trust me," said Rachel, smoothing the table cloth. "You have never tried me." "I wonder what my mother would say." "What does it matter? I don't belong to your mother I belong to you. You must take the responsibility of me," she added laughing. And so it was settled and Luke had two whole days of quiet. He did not move out of his study except for meals, and then he hurried over them and ate them without speaking. Rachel, knowing what he was going through and in what dead earnest he was, in his longing to rid his men of the terrible doubts that had been sown in their hearts, kept silence. It might have been a quiet day arranged by the Bishop! Luke had given her a long list of people to visit, and had told her what information was needed for the magazine, and Rachel set to work asking no further questions. She dispensed money where she thought it was needed (not always wisely alas!) and tended to the best of her knowledge the sick people, singing to many of them; and though it was work just after her own heart, being utterly unused to it having had no training whatever, it took a great deal out of her, particularly as she was of a sympathetic nature. But she felt it was well worth while when, after the two days were over, the strained tired look on Luke's face had disappeared giving way to one full of peace and happiness. He had felt it his duty to face over again, all the arguments and difficulties that his people might come across; and he realised that he was at war with the Devil. The words of St. Paul often ran in his mind; "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Not even Rachel was conscious of the spiritual warfare that was raging in her husband's little study, nor how often he threw himself on his knees crying to God for help in the conflict, nor had Rachel the faintest suspicion of the victories that were gained within its walls.