“Oh, come, Walt, don’t make me feel like a heathen,” interposed Jack. “I don’t mind going to church, but it’s the everlasting long sermons we are subjected to, that I dislike.” “I admit it isn’t the sermon that attracts me; I go simply to offer my thanks, and--and to worship in a way, although I must confess that it is the whole service that does me good--the sermon, the hymns and the prayers. It’s like taking a shower on a hot day.” “It is indeed,” remarked Aunt Marty. “I can tell you children from experience, that material things do not satisfy when one is nearing the end of life. It’s the good we’ve done and the trust we’ve had on the journey, and it is that worship that Walter speaks of that stimulates and inspires us to do the good and have the trust.” “How about driving in to hear Dr. Burk this morning? He isn’t afraid of the truth, and will tell us something worth listening to, I am sure. Jack, you’ll like him; come along, and we’ll have golf right after dinner.” “I’ll play you some golf, but I am going to renig on the church proposition. I’ve strayed too far from the fold to be gathered into it now. May I borrow Delphie and go for a ride?” “Sure, I’ll have Frank saddle her for you,” answered Walter. The meal was finished; Aunt Marty left hastily to make ready for church. Betty lingered in the conservatory rearranging a few stray ferns. “Dear, are you going?” “Have I time to dress? It’s so late already.” “Well, leave the plants alone and hurry.” “Walter dear, if you don’t mind I think I shall stay at home. There are lots of little things I want to do and when they are finished perhaps I’ll ride a little with Jack.” “No, don’t let me keep you home,” interposed Jack, trying to appear disconcerted at Betty’s indecision. “As you like, dear,” answered Walter, “only be careful with Ringgold, she is as wild as a hare--she hasn’t had exercise lately.” “You are sure you won’t mind?” asked Betty pleadingly, as she steadily looked into Walter’s eyes, for she knew his power of observance and his ability intuitively to arrive at conclusions which were often startlingly correct. “I’m satisfied if you are,” he answered. Betty was conscious of a feeling of guilt as she watched the two men go down the room side by side--Walter, a bit stooped, bald and slightly limping, Jack, tall, straight, thin, with a mass of dark hair. Her cheeks burned as she thought of her subterfuge, and felt herself drifting into deception. “I’ll take good care of the little lady, Walt,” Jack was saying, as the car whisked away. Jack lingered about on the veranda; Betty disappeared and did not return until she heard the low, long, familiar whistle come from the foot of the stairs. At that moment she appeared on the landing. “Do come and talk to me, little boy?” begged Jack in a soft, loving tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to church,” answered Betty regretfully, as she slowly descended to the lower step. This brought her head to a level with Jack’s shoulder.