well dressed men and women about him. Not one, he
reflected, who had listened so attentively to this stirring denunciation
of idleness, knew what real _toil_ was--or had any desire to know. He
wanted to rush to the pulpit himself--and tell them what it was. But he
followed Judith out quietly enough.

She had planned their exit so as to be well in advance of the crowd, but
she could not miss them all. She was irritated at the curious glances
flung at her and her companion, though she tried not to notice them. It
was only when a bow was quite unavoidable that she acknowledged it. She
was angry with herself for her self-consciousness. But when she glanced
at her companion, with his spotted, weather-beaten, shapeless suit, and
his antiquated, sun-burned hat, not to speak of his lean and angular
figure; and then at her own trim presence, she had to smile. They did
present a curious spectacle, and the covert smiles were justified.
Still--she was honest enough to admit it--it would please her more to
see Good somewhat better dressed. It did not occur to her that it would
please him too.

They walked along slowly for a little while, in silence. Good was the
first to speak.

"The inside was beautiful, too. That carved oak was fine. Just enough
carving. Not too much. Usually there is. And the windows--the sunlight
filtering in through that one on the left was like the organ when the
vox humana pedal is on--all shimmering. It was very beautiful. So
restful. All churches should be like that. The Catholics have the right
idea. It...."

"And the sermon?" she broke in quizzically.

He stopped short and looked at her narrowly. Her faint smile was not
lost on him.

"Now, Miss Wynrod--that isn't fair," he expostulated. "I told you not to
do that. Really...."

"But that's what I brought you for," she said. "Of course you like the
church. Anyone would. But I want to know about the rest of it. You
promised, you know."

He studied her thoughtfully. "Well," he said finally, "let's wait till
we get to that bosky dell up there. Then we can sit down and have it
out."

When they were seated, Good fell to toying with a stick, and making
little circles in the sand. She waited patiently for him to begin.
Finally he raised his head and looked at her half timorously from under
his bushy eyebrows.

"You won't be angry or disgusted if I tell you what's on my mind?" he
inquired.

"Have I ever been?"

"No--you've been quite remarkable i