,
personally unattractive to her; and yet I wonder why?") He was not a
conceited man; but, like all his sex, he really did "marvel" a little
at the lack of feminine appreciation. He marveled so much that a week
later he took Mary and walked out to Mr. Roberts's house. This time
Mary, to her disgust, was left with Miss Philly's father, while her
brother and Miss Philly walked in the frosted garden. Later, when that
walk was over, and the little sister trudged along at John Fenn's side
in the direction of Perryville, she was very fretful because he would
not talk to her. He was occupied, poor boy, in trying again not to
"marvel," and to be submissive to the divine will.

After that, for several months, he refused Mary's plea to be taken to
visit Miss Philly. He had, he told himself, "submitted"; but
submission left him very melancholy and solemn, and also a little
resentful; indeed, he was so low in his mind, that once he threw out a
bitter hint to Dr. Lavendar,--who, according to his wont, put two and
two together.

"Men in our profession, sir," said John Fenn, "must not expect personal
happiness."

"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, meditatively, "perhaps if we don't expect
it, the surprise of getting it makes it all the better. I expected it;
but I've exceeded my expectations!"

"But you are not married," the young man said, impulsively.

Dr. Lavendar's face changed; "I hope you will marry, Fenn," he said,
quietly. At which John Fenn said, "I am married to my profession; that
is enough for any minister."

"You'll find your profession a mighty poor housekeeper," said Dr.
Lavendar.

It was shortly after this that Mr. Fenn and his big roan broke through
the snow-drifts and made their way to Henry Roberts's house. "I must
speak to you alone, sir," he said to the Irvingite, who, seeing him
approaching, had hastened to open the door for him and draw him in out
of the cold sunshine.

What the caller had to say was brief and to the point: Why was his
daughter so unkind? John Fenn did not feel now that the world--which
meant Philippa--hated him. He felt--he could not help feeling--that
she did not even dislike him; "on the contrary...." So what reason had
she for refusing him? But old Mr. Roberts shook his head. "A young
female does not have 'reasons,'" he said. But he was sorry for the
youth, and he roused himself from his abstraction long enough to
question his girl:

"He is a worthy young man, my Philippa. Why