At that moment there came a loud, double "rat-tat" at the street door, which made them both jump. Their sitting-room was on the ground-floor. The minister rose, pale and expectant. He heard no one coming to answer the summons.
"I wonder if it's for me?" he said.
"Go and see," said his wife.
He went into the passage and opened the door.
"Murray?" said the telegraph-boy, and, on being answered "Yes," handed a reply-paid telegram.
The minister's fingers trembled so, he could scarcely tear the envelope open. He took the telegram in to his wife and read it aloud:—
"Can you supply Upton Chapel on Sunday next? Letter to follow."
That was all, with the name and address of the sender appended. Both the minister and his wife knew the Upton Chapel, and perceived at once that that was the most hopeful thing that had happened to them for more than a year.
"Yes," wrote the minister on the reply-form, which he handed to the telegraph-boy.
"Thank God for that, Mary," said he, when he returned to her. "Now I can send you and Jim away for at least a week! Thank God, my dear!"