"Thank you," he responded, warmly. "That is the second invitation I have had this afternoon. Mr. Marion has just been in to ask me to attend the League's devotional meeting to-morrow night. He says it will be especially interesting on account of the season, and insists that 'turn about is fair play.' He went to our Atonement-day services, and he wants me to be present at his Christmas services."
"We shall be very glad to have you come," said Bethany. "Dr. Bascom is to lead the meeting instead of any of the young people, who usually take turns. I can not tell how such a meeting might impress an outsider; to me they are very inspiring and helpful."
That night, as she sat in her room indulging in a few minutes of meditation before putting out the light, she reviewed her acquaintance with David Herschel. Her conscience condemned her for the little use she had made of her opportunity.
It had been four months since he had come into the office, and while they had several times discussed their respective religions, she had never found an occasion when she could make a personal appeal to him to accept Christ. Once when she had been about to do so, he had abruptly walked away, and another time, a client had interrupted them.
"I must speak to him frankly," she said. Then she knelt and prayed that something might be said or sung in the service of the morrow that would prepare the way for such a conversation.
David felt decidedly out of place Sunday evening as he took a seat in the back part of the room, in the least conspicuous corner he could find.
They were singing when he entered. He recognized the tune. It was the one he had heard at Chattanooga—"Nearer, my God, to Thee." It seemed to bring the whole scene before him—the sunrise—the vast concourse of people, and the earnestness that thrilled every soul.
At the close of the song, another was announced in a voice that he thought he recognized. He leaned forward to make sure. Yes, he had been correct. It was Hewson Raleigh's—one of the keenest, most scholarly lawyers at the bar, and a man he met daily.
He was leaning back in his seat, beating time with his left hand, as he led the tune with his strong tenor voice. He sang as if he heartily enjoyed it, and meant every word and note.
David moved over to make room for a newcomer. From his changed position he could see a number of people he recognized: Mr. and Mrs. Marion, Lois Denning, and the Courtney sisters. Bethany was seated at the piano.