"Keep cool," advised Sam Burnett. "He wants the old man's advice--that's all. I don't blame him. He wants to understand the situation thoroughly. Nothing like putting your head into a thing before you put your foot in. It saves complications. Sewall's head's level--trust him." [Illustration: "Billy!" His sister Margaret's voice was anxious. "Are you sure you'd better?"] V "I can't--" said a very old man with a peaceful face--now wearing a somewhat startled expression-- "I can't quite believe you are serious, Mr. Sewall. The people are all expecting you--they will come out to hear you. I have not preached for--" he hesitated-- "for many years. I will not say that it would not be--a happiness. If I thought I were fit. But----" "If I were half as fit," answered Sewall, gently, "I should be very proud. But I'm--why, I'm barely seasoned, yet. I'm liable to warp, if I'm exposed to the weather. But you--with all the benefit of your long experience--you're the sort of timber that needs to be built into this strange Christmas service. I hadn't thought much about it, Mr. Blake, till I was on my way here. I accepted the invitation too readily. But when I did begin to think, I felt the need of help. I believe you can give it. It's a critical situation. You know these people, root and branch. I may say the wrong thing. You will know how to say the right one." "If I should consent," the other man said, after a silence during which, with bent white head, he studied the matter, "what would be your part? Should you attempt--" he glanced at the clerical dress of his caller-- "to carry through the service of your--Church?" Sewall's face, which had been grave, relaxed. "No, Mr. Blake," said he. "It wouldn't be possible, and it wouldn't be--suitable. This is a community which would probably prefer any other service, and it should have its preference respected. A simple form, as nearly as possible like what it has been used to, will be best--don't you think so? I believe there is to be considerable music. I will read the Story of the Birth, and will try to make a prayer. The rest I will leave to you." "And Him," added the old man. "And Him," agreed the young man, reverently. Then a bright smile broke over his face, and he held out his hand. "I'm no end grateful to you, sir," he said, a certain attractive boyishness of manner suddenly coming uppermost and putting to flight the dignity which was at times a heavier weight than he could carry. "No end. Don't you remember how it used to be, when you first went into the work, and tackled a job now and then that seemed too big for you? Then you caught sight of a pair of shoulders that looked to you broader than yours--the muscles developed by years of exercise--and you were pretty thankful to shift the load on to them? You didn't want to shirk--Heaven forbid!--but you just felt you didn't know enough to deal with the situation. Don't you remember?"