The question came with perfect simplicity, but it smote Philip almost like a blow. It was spoken with calmness that hardly rose above a whisper, but it seemed to the listener almost like a shout. The thought of giving up his work simply because his church had not yet done what he wished, or because some of his people did not like him, was the last thing a man of his nature would do. He looked again at the man and said:
"Would you resign if you were in my place?"
"No." It was so quietly spoken that Philip almost doubted if his visitor had replied. Then he said: "What has been done with the parsonage?"
"It is empty. The church is waiting to rent it to some one who expects to move to Milton soon."
"Are you sorry you came here?"
"No; I am happy in my work."
"Do you have enough to eat and wear?"
"Yes, indeed. The thousand dollars which the church refused to take off my salary goes to help where most needed; the rest is more than enough for us."
"Does your wife think so?" The question from any one else had been impertinent. From this man it was not.
"Let us call her in and ask her," replied Philip, with a smile.