"Oh, lovely!" I cried; "I didn't think I'd get a chance to wear my finery at all. Do tell me all about it, Gordon," as I snuggled closer in the moonlight. The deck was gloriously deserted now.
"There isn't much to tell," he said, and I wondered why he wasn't more jubilant about it all. "They invited me to preach before them a few weeks ago. I went—never dreamed they would call me, though. But they did. And the church isn't such a very large one—but it's very fashionable; too fashionable, I fear. A minister isn't always happiest in a church like that, you know," and again I caught the note in his voice which showed he didn't regard the prospect with unmixed enthusiasm.
"But I know we'll be happy, dear," I reassured him, quite frank in my exultation; "that class of people will suit you so much better. They'll appreciate you—you'd have been wasted on those common people at that other outlandish place."
"Not wasted, dear," he answered quietly; "a man's never wasted where he does his best. But I'm glad for your sake," he went on more brightly; "I don't think I'd have gone, only I thought you'd be happier there."
"I'd be happy anywhere with you," I replied in bridal bliss. "I'd have come to you just the same if you'd been assistant minister of an Indian church at the North Pole. But I'm glad," my happy words went on, "I'm so glad we're going to be among congenial people. And I'm sure we'll have a lovely time—we'll have a lovely social life, I mean."
"I hate social life—society life, at least," Gordon suddenly broke out in a voice that quite startled me; "and if they think I'm going to be a gossipy tea-drinking parson, they'll soon find their mistake."
"But, Gordon," I remonstrated seriously, "you shouldn't look at it that way. Consider the influence you can have over them—that is, through their social life. I think the minister of rich people has the greatest chance in the world—to do them good, I mean. And I'll help you—I'll help you, dearest."
"How?" my husband enquired after a little pause.
"Well," I answered slowly; "oh, well, I like that sort of thing. I'm not much good, you know, at—at—religious work, prayer-meetings and things," I floundered on; "but I can—I can do that part, because I like it. I'll try and help you, Gordon—in that department, you know," I concluded, realizing, I fear, that it wasn't a very heroic field.
"I want my little wife to help me in all the departments," he answered, smiling. "And you will, won't you, dearest—you'll love my work for its own sake, won't you?"