Dale heartily commended the Baptist custom. He said that much of his objection to religion had been caused by what he read of the Roman Catholic faith. As a responsible man he could never bring himself to that abject submission to another man, however you sanctified and tricked out the other man; besides, no one of mature age cares to make a complete confession of his past life. There must always be things that he could not force himself to disclose--follies, indiscretions, perhaps the grievous mistakes which he himself wants to forget, knowing that improvement lies in determination for better conduct, and not in brooding on past failure. Mr. Osborn looked round, and used a gentle deprecating tone. "You speak of your objection to religion; but, Mr. Dale, you are a singularly religious man. You are, really." "I will postpone that part of it, if you please"--and Dale became rather stiff again--"but with the intention of adverting to it later. What I wish first to lay at rest is something in regard to the hymns employed on the occasion of my attendance. The numbers were one hundred and twenty-six, six hundred and fifty-nine, and one hundred and ten. Now I ask you as man to man, feeling sure you'll give me a straight answer: Were those hymns specially selected for the reason that I had chanced to drop in?" Mr. Osborn stopped work, looked round quickly, and his face was all bright and eager. "No. But did you feel there was a special message to you in them?" "I wouldn't put it quite like that," said Dale guardedly. "Because it so often happens. It has happened again and again--to my own knowledge." "You'll understand, Mr. Osborn, that I didn't take them as any way personal to myself--certainly not any way offensive; but it occurred to me that it might perhaps be the habit whenever a stranger dropped in to pick out hymns of strength, with a view to shaking him and warming him up, as it were." The pastor resumed his work. "Those hymns were given out the day before--Saturday. Sister Eldridge had asked for one hundred and twenty-six; number six hundred and fifty-nine was, as far as I remember, also bespoken; and I chose number one hundred and ten myself--because it is a great favorite of mine. So you see, Mr. Dale, at the time we settled on those hymns, we did not know that you were coming--and perhaps you did not know it yourself." "I did not know it," said Dale. "Tell me," said Mr. Osborn, "how doubt has assailed you." "Ah, there you put me a puzzling one;" and Dale puffed at his pipe laboriously. "You oughtn't to doubt, you know. You have what men prize--wife, children, and home. You thrive, and the world smiles on you." "Yes, I'm more than solvent. I hope to leave Mrs. Dale and the babes secure." "But you don't feel secure yourself?" "I banked a matter of seven hundred last year."