"You will do us the pleasure of staying for tea, Mr. Sleighter?" said
Mrs. Gwynne earnestly.

"Oh, do," said the youngest little girl, Nora, whose snapping black eyes
gleamed with eager desire to hear more of the wonderful western land.

"Yes, do, and tell us more," said the boy.

"I hope you will be able to stay," continued Mrs. Gwynne.

Mr. Sleighter glanced at her husband. "Why, certainly," said Mr. Gwynne,
"we would be glad to have you."

Still Mr. Sleighter hesitated. "Say, I don't know what's come over me. I
feel as if I had been on the stump," he said in an embarrassed voice.
"I ain't talked to a soul about that country since I left. I guess I got
pretty full, and when you pulled the cork, out she come."

During the tea hour Mrs. Gwynne tried to draw her visitor out to talk
about his family, but here she failed. Indeed a restraint appeared to
fall upon him that nothing could dispel. Immediately after tea Mrs.
Gwynne placed the Bible and Book of Prayers on the table, saying,
"We follow the custom of reading prayers every evening after tea, Mr.
Sleighter. We shall be glad to have you join us."

"Sure thing, ma'am," said Mr. Sleighter, pushing back his chair and
beginning to rock on its hind legs, picking his teeth with his pen
knife, to the staring horror of the little girls.

The reading was from the Scripture to which throughout the centuries the
Christian Church has gone for authority and guidance in the exercise
of charity and in the performance of social service, the story of the
Samaritan gentleman to whom the unhappy traveller whose misfortune it
was to be sorely mishandled by thieves owed his rescue and his life.

Throughout the reading Mr. Sleighter paid the strictest attention and
joined in the prayers with every sign of reverence. At the close he
stood awkwardly shifting from one foot to another.

"Well, I'll be goin'," he said. "Don't know how you roped me in for this
here visit, ma'am. I ain't et in any one's house since I left home, and
I ain't heard any family prayers since my old dad had 'em--a regular old
Methodist exhorter he was. He used to pray until all was blue, though
most times, specially at night, I used to fall asleep. He was great on
religion."

"I don't suppose he was any the worse for that," said Mrs. Gwynne.

"Not a mite, not a mite, ma'am. A little strict, but straight as a
string, ma'am. No one could say anythin' against Hiram Sleighter--H. P.
Sleighter. I was named f