The next morning when Mr. Burke appeared to accompany the ladies to the yacht, he found Willy Croup alone in their parlor.
"Do you know what's happened?" cried Willy, springing towards him as he entered. "Of course you don't, for Mrs. Cliff is going to give the first country week on the Summer Shelter to a Synod!"
"To a what?" cried Burke.
"A Synod," explained Willy. "It's a congregation, I mean a meeting, mostly of ministers, come together to settle church matters. She invited the whole lot of them, but of course they all can't come,—for there are more than a hundred of them,—but there will be about a dozen who can sail with us next Wednesday!"
Mr. Burke's jaw dropped. "A dozen ministers!" he exclaimed. "Sail with us! By George! Miss Croup, will you excuse me if I sit down?"
"You know," said Willy, "that the Summer Shelter was bought for this sort of thing! That is, to do good to people who can't get that sort of good in other ways! And if Mrs. Cliff takes out poor children from the slums, and hard-working shopgirls, and seamstresses, why shouldn't she take hard-working ministers and give them some fresh air and pleasure?"
"A dozen ministers!" groaned Mr. Burke. "I tell you, Miss Croup, I can't take them in!"
"Oh, there'll be room enough!" said Willy, mistaking his meaning, "for Mrs. Cliff says that each of those little rooms will easily hold two!"
"Oh, it isn't that!" said Burke, his eyes fixed steadfastly upon a chair near him as if it had been something to look at. "But twelve ministers coming down on me so sudden, rather takes me aback, Miss Croup!"
"I don't wonder," said Willy, "for I don't believe that a Synod ever went out yachting before in a bunch!"