"I think Mr. Bowen does." "Have you ever told him as much?" Mr. Winthrop asked, with an odd smile. "No, I have scarcely said anything to him about his goodness. I like best to let him do the talking when we are together." "I am getting curious to see that man." "Oh, Mr. Winthrop, if you would only come with me to their church. They are having wonderful meetings, and people are getting converted." "What church is it?" "Beech Street, I heard the minister pray at Mrs. Blake's funeral, and once since at the Larkums. I have longed to hear him again. I never heard anything like it in my life. It reminded me of a beautiful poem or oratorio." "Why, have you not gone to his church, then, to hear him?" "I feared you might be displeased." We walked on some distance in silence. I stole a quick look once at his face to see if he was angry, but he seemed in one of his abstracted moods, and I reflected that by this time, he had probably forgotten my existence. But I was mistaken; for all at once he said abruptly, as he stood holding open the gate that led from the footpath into the main street. "You have been a more obedient girl than I expected any of your sex could be, especially one with your keen, impetuous nature. To reward your fidelity I will go to the Beech Street church whenever you wish." I looked up at him, the grateful tears in my eyes, but some way my feelings had got beyond my control, and I dared not attempt to thank him. We joined the crowds on the sidewalk and after a while he said:-- "You have not thanked me, Medoline; don't you appreciate my offer?" I tried to speak; but my lip quivered, and I remained silent. "You have thanked me very eloquently, little one; more so than if you had used set phrases."