It took some minutes for Barry to make his way through to the door. He wanted to greet them all. He had a feeling that he was there not in his own person but as a representative standing between two noble companies of martyrs, those who had gone forth to die, and those who had sent them.
“You have done us a great service to-day, sir,” said the minister in bidding Barry good-bye.
“It was a privilege to do it,” said Barry as he shook hands with the minister and his wife. “I shall tell the men about you and your people.”
“My dear, my dear, is he your man?” asked the minister's wife as she held Phyllis' hand.
“He is,” said Phyllis, glancing at Barry with shy pride.
“And he leaves you soon?”
“In two days,” replied the girl, with a quick breath.
“Don't let him away till you give yourself wholly to him. Why not to-morrow? It's a mother's word.”
“That's what I say,” cried Paula impulsively, seeking to cover the girl's blushing confusion. “Neil,” she added, turning to him, “I should love to be married in just such a dear little church as this.”
“All right,” said Neil. “I know another just like it, and I shall show it to you next week.”