"You told me once," Mr. Linden went on, "that in such a case I should choose the place where I was most needed—where there was most work for me to do. Now you shall judge. The pastor of a large manufacturing town in Pennsylvania (I may say of the town—it is so in effect) has accepted a call to Baltimore. I knew him formerly, and I suppose it is through his influence that the people have applied to me." Faith thought it very likely.
"How large is the town, Endy?"
"Ten or fifteen thousand—I do not know precisely."
"And no other churches?"
"Yes, but this is so much the leading one that the others hardly hold their ground; and by the way, I think I would rather have a call from one of them. Apparently the churchgoers are in the minority."
Faith thought there must be work enough to do in that place; but she only listened more gravely.
"An old friend of my father's writes the second letter. He lives at Newport, and has pleased himself with building a new church in a part of the island not much adorned with spires. Climate and society are good, scenery picturesque, and he is quite sure if I will only bring—Mrs. Linden!—to his house, she will decide in favour of Newport at once."
Faith's eyes went down, and rouge of the richest and frankest coloured her cheeks.
"Do you think she will?" said Mr. Linden demurely.
"What is the other, Endy?—You said three."