When Jennie, hearing the news, hurried home from the other end of town, really frightened for the first time in her married life, the young minister was gone and Frank was sitting out on the back porch staring at nothing.
"Frank," Jennie began breathlessly, "is he gone?"
"Yes—he's gone."
"Frank—you—I hope you didn't get mad at him. He's different—not like other ministers—and he's really a boy in some things."
"Jennie," and Frank reassured her, "you're darn right that boy is different. He's so darn different from all the rest of them I've met that I'm going to church next Sunday. James D. and Dudley and others of that stripe will probably die of shock but just you press your best dress, Jennie, for we're surely going. Why that man's no minister. Don't slander him. He's a human being."
Jennie's eyes grew a bit misty, for with no babies to love, Frank was her all in all and her one great sorrow was that so few people knew the real Frank.
"And come to think of it, Jennie," Frank mused, "you weren't so far wrong in thinking that it was a Christian Scientist who was coming. I guess that's just about what he is—a Christian scientist."