Provoked at his mirth, Ray sprang from the bed and began to dress himself, without saying a word. The brother, taking it for granted that the boy would soon join them for the trip, left the room. When, however, he came down to breakfast, with a clean shirt and collar on, his hair nicely combed, his clothes brushed, and his boots freshly blacked, the brother, with an oath, asked: "Ain't you going with us, Ray?" "Not if I know myself," he coolly replied; "I have a more pressing engagement." And as neither scorn nor threats moved him in his decision, the others finally went off without him. As the hour approached for the morning service, Ray sought his sister-in-law, whom he in some way felt was most in sympathy with him, and said: "Come, Betsy, go up to church and Sunday-school with me to-day. I shall feel like a fish on dry land up there alone." "I wish I could," she replied, a wistful look coming into her face. "But George has gone off, and the girls never will look out for the children, so I can't go." He then went to each of his sisters in turn with a similar request, but in each case met with a scornful refusal, the younger one adding: "You got your minister off on us yesterday, and we heard Bible and praying enough then to make us blue for a week. I'd like to see myself going where he is again." Ray left the house and walked slowly off up town. He felt all out of humor with himself, and repeatedly said: "Catch me making such a fool of myself again, and you'll catch a weasel asleep." He reached Main Street just as the First Church bell tolled for service, and following the people in, took a seat in the gallery. He could not remember the time when he had been inside of a meeting house before, and gazed curiously around at the frescoed walls, the memorial windows, and the large organ and choir. With the last stroke of the bell the organist struck the keyboard, and as the melodious sounds pealed forth the boy lost himself in the service. Organ and song, Scripture and prayer, and sermon, all had a charm and novelty for him, which were irresistible. Mr. Carleton had evidently brought with him to the pulpit that morning some of that power he had felt a few days before on the hilltops, and from the moment he announced his text until he had finished the discourse, Ray's eyes were fastened upon him. When he had closed, the boy gave a sigh of satisfaction, and said to himself: "He can preach as well as I can throw stones," which, after all, was not so bad a compliment. As the congregation was dismissed, Ray followed the others down the stairs and out of the vestibule, wondering how he should find his way into the schoolrooms. As he passed out of the doors, however, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and Mr. Carleton's voice said: "I am glad you were here this morning, Ray. If you will wait here on the steps a minute or two, I will then go with you into the school."