Which I promised swiftly. "But I think I'll love it more in that kind of a church," I added frankly, "than I would at Rocanville. And of course I won't play cards with them, or dance—or anything like that," I affirmed piously, looking to Gordon for an approving smile; "but I suppose it won't be any harm for me to go to those things, will it, dear?"
"I hadn't thought of that," he said, looking out over the shining bay; "but I want my wife to find her life-work in mine—and to help me be a truer and better minister, no matter where our field of work may be."
All of which I promised, with the gladdest, happiest heart. And I told Gordon I wanted him to write me out a little prayer, a kind of missionary prayer, for opening meetings with, and all that sort of thing. Gordon said I was a ritualist.
Then we arose to go inside, for the night was growing chill.
"Is there any danger, Gordon," I asked as we walked through the saloon, "any danger, do you think, that my trunks won't get to Hertford the same day we do? They have the reception that night, you said."
"Oh, no," he said; "the trunks have gone on ahead already."
"I'm so glad," I answered; "it would be too bad to begin our work there with—with any handicap like that, you know."
XV
"OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS"
It was evident there were plenty of rich people in St. Andrew's, as Gordon had told me. I hadn't been half an hour in the parlours of the church that evening of our reception before I was sure of that. My trunks had come to hand all right, and my wedding splendour was making what show it could, but it soon found its level among the costly gowns that were worn by many a fair dame that night. If I had wanted abundant evidence that Gordon was to be minister of a fashionable church, I had every reason to be satisfied. I had never seen so much rich religion in any one organization. Although, of course, the evening wasn't very much on the religious order. There was an opening prayer, I think, and the good brother who offered it prayed that they might all go out into the highways and byways and compel them to come in. I remember thinking most of them would have to change their clothes before they did any highway duty of that kind—and I felt sorry for the wanderers that might be introduced.