ing that this colored pastor, waiting so quietly for his
answer, must infallibly have followed his thoughts. In his swift
self-blame he felt that the least amends he could make for his unspoken
discourtesy was a prompt acceptance of the invitation.

So he looked up and said, hurriedly: "Mr. Driver, forgive me for not
speaking sooner. I'll do the best I can"; and then, regaining his
composure, "Have you any idea as to the subject I'm supposed to talk
about?"

"Yes," the colored minister replied, not without a touch of curious
tenseness in his voice. "The committee wanted me to get a representative
from your Chapter to make a ten-minute address of welcome on behalf of
the Epworthians of First Church!"

Again J.W. was forced to hesitate. Here he was an Epworthian, but
knowing nothing at all about the work of these other young Methodists.
Until to-day he scarcely knew they existed. And now he was asked to
welcome them to town in the name of the League!

But once again shame compelled him to take the bold course. With an
apologetic smile he said, "Well, that's the last subject I could imagine
you'd give to any of us at First Church. Your young people and ours have
hardly been aware of each other, and it seems queer that you should ask
me to make an address of welcome in your church. But as I think of it,
maybe this is just what somebody ought to do, and I might as well try
it. Trouble is, what am I going to say?"

"We'll risk that, Mr. Farwell," said Pastor Driver, confidently. "Just
say what you think, and you'll do all right."

J.W. was by no means sure of that, and the more he thought about his
speech in the next few days, the more confused he became. Any ordinary
speech of welcome would be easy--"Glad you were sensible enough to come
to Delafield," "make yourselves at home," "freedom of the city," "our
latch strings are out," "command us for anything we can do,"
"congratulate you on the fine work you are doing," "know when we return
this visit and come to the places you represent you will make us
welcome"--and so on. But it was plainly impossible for him to talk like
that. It wouldn't be true, and it would certainly not be prudent.

He put the thing up to J.W., Sr. "What'll I say, dad?" he asked. "You
know we haven't had much to do with the people of Saint Marks, and maybe
it wouldn't be best for us to make any sudden change as to that, even
if some of us wanted to. But I've got to talk like a Christian, whether