“Yes,” said the doctor. “Do you know Miss Gladys?”
“I have met her two or three times,” said the boy.
“They are parishioners of mine,” remarked the other.
And Samuel gave a start. “Why!” he exclaimed. “Then you—you must be the rector of St. Matthew's.”
“Yes,” was the reply. “Didn't you know that?”
The boy was a little awed. He had seen the great brownstone temple upon the hill—a structure far more splendid than anything he had ever dreamed of.
“Have you never attended?” asked the doctor.
“I went to the mission once,” said Samuel—referring to the little chapel in the poor quarters of the town. “A friend of mine goes there—Sophie Stedman. She works in Mr. Wygant's cotton mill.”
“I should be glad to have you come to the church,” said the other.
“I'd like to very much,” replied the boy. “I didn't know exactly if I ought to, you know.”