“Well, then will you send an officer?”
“No-o—I don't—”
“Well, I'll try to send someone.”
Mary was at last too wide awake to think of dozing. This blot on the sweet May Sabbath drove away all thought of day dreams. Poor, miserable human creatures! Poor, long-suffering neighbors, and poor John!
“All sorts of people appeal to him in all sorts of cases, and often in cases which do not come within a doctor's province at all—he is guide, counsellor and friend,” she thought as she put on her hat and went out for a walk.
CHAPTER IX.
One Sunday morning at the beginning of August, Mary stood in the church—as it chanced, in the back row—and sang with her next neighbor from the same hymn book, John Newton's good old hymn,
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound