'I think I may say none, except in business; and my object in selecting such a church as yours is to keep up the same degree of piety which I humbly trust I maintained in my village home.'
[Pretty well, Hiram, pretty well—but you have an old head to deal with, and an honest heart: be careful.]
'To do that,' replied the Doctor, gravely, 'you must not look back to what you were, or thought you were. Be sure you are in danger when you feel complacent about yourself.'
These were awful words to Hiram, and from such a severe, grave, dignified old man.
'In danger!' That was something new. 'Of what?' Why, no thought of a possibility of danger had crossed young Meeker's mind since the day he joined the church in Hampton.
He sat quite still, uncertain what reply to make.
He was interrupted by the tones of the Doctor's voice—tones which were modified from their previous severity.
'I will take your letter,' he said, 'and at the next communion, which will take place in about six weeks, you will be admitted to membership.'
'I should like to have a class in the Sunday school,' said Hiram, breathing more freely.
'If you will speak next Sunday to Mr. Harris, the superintendent,' replied the Doctor, 'he will furnish you with one. There is a demand for teachers just at present, I heard him say.'