"Because it so often happens. It has happened again and again—to my own knowledge."
"You'll understand, Mr. Osborn, that I didn't take them as any way personal to myself—certainly not any way offensive; but it occurred to me that it might perhaps be the habit whenever a stranger dropped in to pick out hymns of strength, with a view to shaking him and warming him up, as it were."
The pastor resumed his work. "Those hymns were given out the day before—Saturday. Sister Eldridge had asked for one hundred and twenty-six; number six hundred and fifty-nine was, as far as I remember, also bespoken; and I chose number one hundred and ten myself—because it is a great favorite of mine. So you see, Mr. Dale, at the time we settled on those hymns, we did not know that you were coming—and perhaps you did not know it yourself."
"I did not know it," said Dale.
"Tell me," said Mr. Osborn, "how doubt has assailed you."
"Ah, there you put me a puzzling one;" and Dale puffed at his pipe laboriously.
"You oughtn't to doubt, you know. You have what men prize—wife, children, and home. You thrive, and the world smiles on you."
"Yes, I'm more than solvent. I hope to leave Mrs. Dale and the babes secure."
"But you don't feel secure yourself?"
"I banked a matter of seven hundred last year."