trip West.
He would do that after church, if a certain important detail of his
plan did not miscarry. Although he paid respectful attention to the
sermon, Skinner's thoughts were at work on something not religious, and
he was relieved when the doxology was finished and the blessing asked.
Unlike most of the others present, Skinner was in no hurry to leave.
Instead, he loitered in the aisle until Mrs. Stephen Colby overtook him
on her way down from one of the front pews.

"Why, Mr. Skinner, this _is_ a surprise," exclaimed the social arbiter.
Then slyly, "There's some hope for you yet."

"I thought I'd come in and make my peace before embarking on a railroad
journey," Skinner observed.

"Going away? Not for long, I hope."

"St. Paul. I'm not carrying a message from the Ephesians--just a
business trip."

"St. Paul's very interesting."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"You've never been there?"

"No."

"Goodness--I know it well."

"What bothers me is, I'm afraid Mrs. Skinner 'll find it dull. I'm
taking her along. You see, I 'll have lots to do, but she does n't
know anybody out there."

The social arbiter pondered a moment. "But she _should_ know somebody.
Would you mind if I gave her a letter to Mrs. J. Matthews Wilkinson?
Very old friend of mine and very dear. You'll find her charming.
Something of a bore on family. Her great-grandfather was a kind of
land baron out that way."

"It's mighty good of you to do that for Mrs. Skinner."

"Bless you, I'm doing it for you, too. You have n't forgotten that
you're a devilish good dancer and you don't chatter all the time?"
Then, after a pause, "I'm wishing a good thing on the Wilkinsons,
too,"--confidentially,--"for I don't mind telling you I've found Mrs.
Skinner perfectly delightful. She's a positive joy to me."

"You're all right, Mrs. Colby."

"That's the talk. Yes, I'm coming along." She waved her hand to
Stephen Colby. "When do you go?"

"To-morrow morning."

"I'll send the letter over this afternoon--and if you don't mind, I 'll
wire the Wilkinsons that you're coming on."

Skinner impulsively caught her hand. "Mrs. Colby, you're the best
fellow I ever met!"

When the letter arrived at the Skinner's house that afternoon, Honey
knitted her brows.

"I don't understand it."

"You ought to. It's for you."

"Dearie," said Honey, rising, her eyes brimming, "you mean to say that
I'm going to St. Paul with you?"

"Don't have to say it. Is