that he prefaced by a little sigh of
resignation these further words,--

"Come--let us make the best of it, my girl! After all, we are in the
hands of the Lord."

"Oh, don't, Theron!" she said hastily. "Don't talk to me about the Lord
tonight; I can't bear it!"

CHAPTER II

"Theron! Come out here! This is the funniest thing we have heard yet!"

Mrs. Ware stood on the platform of her new kitchen stoop. The bright
flood of May-morning sunshine completely enveloped her girlish form,
clad in a simple, fresh-starched calico gown, and shone in golden
patches upon her light-brown hair. She had a smile on her face, as she
looked down at the milk boy standing on the bottom step--a smile of a
doubtful sort, stormily mirthful.

"Come out a minute, Theron!" she called again; and in obedience to the
summons the tall lank figure of her husband appeared in the open doorway
behind her. A long loose, open dressing-gown dangled to his knees,
and his sallow, clean-shaven, thoughtful face wore a morning undress
expression of youthful good-nature. He leaned against the door-sill,
crossed his large carpet slippers, and looked up into the sky, drawing a
long satisfied breath.

"What a beautiful morning!" he exclaimed. "The elms over there are full
of robins. We must get up earlier these mornings, and take some walks."

His wife indicated the boy with the milk-pail on his arm, by a wave of
her hand.

"Guess what he tells me!" she said. "It wasn't a mistake at all, our
getting no milk yesterday or the Sunday before. It seems that that's the
custom here, at least so far as the parsonage is concerned."

"What's the matter, boy?" asked the young minister, drawling his words
a little, and putting a sense of placid irony into them. "Don't the cows
give milk on Sunday, then?"

The boy was not going to be chaffed. "Oh, I'll bring you milk fast
enough on Sundays, if you give me the word," he said with nonchalance.
"Only it won't last long."

"How do you mean--'won't last long'?", asked Mrs. Ware, briskly.

The boy liked her--both for herself, and for the doughnuts fried with
her own hands, which she gave him on his morning round. He dropped his
half-defiant tone.

"The thing of it's this," he explained. "Every new minister starts in
saying we can deliver to this house on Sundays, an' then gives us notice
to stop before the month's out. It's the trustees that does it."

The Rev. Theron Ware uncrossed his feet and moved out on to