“The little villages in among the hills are pretty, aren’t they?—so clean and white—but they don’t seem to care about the rest of the world at all, it seems to me. Webster is like that, too, I think, though it is lovely. If you remember how it looked when you were here, then I don’t need to describe it, for Aunt Nan says it hasn’t changed any. When we reached here, and were driving up towards the house, grandmother asked me how I liked Webster, and I said it was beautiful, but it seemed very small. She couldn’t understand me at all, and said she didn’t see how it could seem small to me when we didn’t live in a town at all in Wyoming. I was afraid I had been impolite, and I was just trying to explain that I meant it seemed shut in because you couldn’t see the country all around like you could at home, when we stopped at the house, and saw a gentleman coming toward us with a black suit and a cane. Grandmother looked at Aunt Nan, and Aunt Nan at grandmother, and they both said at once, ‘Dr. Baxter!’ “‘We must invite him to tea,’ said grandmother. ‘It would never do not to!’ “‘Nonsense!’ said Aunt Nan. ‘I don’t see why.’ “Well, he came up to the carriage just as grandmother finished whispering, ‘Our pastor, Virginia,’ and handed grandmother out, and then Aunt Nan, and lastly me. I tried to be especially polite when grandmother introduced me, remembering how she had warned me that he was the minister; but somehow all I could think of was the parson in the ‘Birds of Killingworth,’ because, when I first saw him coming down the street, he was hitting the goldenrod with his cane, and some way I just know he preaches about the ‘wrath of God,’ too, just like the Killingworth parson. He did stay to tea, though I’m sure Aunt Nan didn’t want him, and I, not being used to ministers, didn’t want him either; but I put on one of my new dresses, as grandmother said, and tried to be an asset and not a liability. But, father, I know grandmother was troubled, and, in a way, displeased, because of the following incident: “Dr. Baxter is bald and wears eye-glasses on a string, and the end of his nose quivers like a rabbit’s, and he rubs his hands, which are rather plump, together a great deal. Some way, father, you just feel as though he didn’t care away down deep about you at all, but was just curious. I am sorry if I am wrong about him, but I can’t help feeling that way. All through tea he talked about the Christianizing of Korea, and the increased sale of the Bible, and how terrible it was that China wasn’t going to make Christianity the state religion. He didn’t pay much attention to me, and I thought he had forgotten all about me, when all at once he looked at me across the table and said: “‘And to what church do you belong, Miss Virginia?’