ll let me in on this missionary expedition, it would be awfully
good of you. Just the opportunity I've been looking for."

The Apostle beamed on them all. "They's always room for workers in the
Lord's vineyard," he said solemnly.

Philip could think of no reasonable objection to offer. He murmured
something vague to Kate about the necessity of a chaperon.

She stared at him in frank amazement. "A chaperon for Jacqueline--with
_you_? What an idea! You and Mr. Channing will take the best possible
care of my little girl. Of course she shall go! I wish I could go
myself."

"Why can't you?" he asked eagerly.

She shook her head. "At State Fair time? Impossible, with my head men
away. It would demoralize the farm."

Jacqueline caught Philip's eye and winked, wickedly. "You'll just have
to be that chaperon yourself, Reverend Flip," she murmured.

CHAPTER XXVI

Philip did his best, somewhat hampered by the fact that the girl
regarded his enforced chaperonage as a joke, and flirted with Channing
quite brazenly and openly under his very eye. Even the Apostle shortly
became aware of how matters stood, and remarked to Philip benignly, at
an early stage of their journey, "I like to see young folks
sweet-heartin'. It's a nateral thing, like the Lord intended."

Philip could not agree with any heartiness; but presently the high
spirits of the other two infected him, and he entered into the adventure
with a growing zest. The clean September air was like wine, and they
chattered and laughed like children starting off on a picnic.

Channing had spent the night before at Storm, to be in time for a
sunrise start, and he appeared at breakfast in a costume which he and
Farwell had evolved as suitable for mountaineering; an affair of
riding-boots, pale corduroy breeches, flannel shirt, and a silk
handkerchief knotted becomingly about the throat. He was disconcerted to
discover that the suit-case of other appropriate garments he had brought
with him must be left behind, his luggage being finally reduced to a
package of handkerchiefs and a toothbrush.

"But we are to be gone at least a week!" he pleaded unhappily. "Surely a
change of linen--"

"There'll be a creek handy," said Jacqueline, "and I'm taking a cake of
soap in my bundle. We can't be bothered with luggage."

When he saw the mules that were to convey them from the mountain town at
which the railroad left them, up to their final destination, he realized
the unde