It was only about a week after the receipt of the letter from the doctor, when she was still smarting from her wounded feelings, that she was told a clergyman wanted to see her personally. She found a quiet little man, dressed in black.
"Miss Doane," he said with a smile, "I am the Presbyterian clergyman from Adams, your old home, and as I was in town I thought I would come to see you."
Suspicion jumped into Drusilla's old eyes.
"Won't you set down?" she said, rather coldly for her.
The stranger sat down.
"Did you take the place of old Dr. Smith?" Drusilla asked.
"Yes; he's had another call, to a higher land"—motioning upward—"and I have his charge."
The man chatted very intelligently regarding the people in Adams, and Drusilla began to thaw. She forgot her other visitor in her enjoyment of hearing the names of the people in her old church.
"Miss Doane," the clergyman said finally, "we are in a little trouble in our church, and I thought that you might help us."
Drusilla stiffened at once.