"Ah," said my friend, "we are not all revivalists like you, remember."
"Well," I said, "let me hope you are a deal better than I am."
He seemed very uneasy at taking me on after this conversation; but as he had written to say we were coming, he thought we must go forward. In order to ease his mind, I made an agreement with him that during luncheon I would tell about the conversion of one of Mr. —'s parishioners, and said, "While I do so, you watch his face. If he is at all interested, I will conclude that I am wrong, and that he is converted; but if he is not, I will leave you to judge for yourself. I must say, I cannot understand a converted man not interested in the conversion of others, even if it does nothing more than remind him of his own."
My friend agreed to this, and seemed somewhat relieved in his mind.
On our arrival, Mr. — received us courteously, and asked after the family—indeed, about everything he could think of but the work.
My friend, after a little pause, said, "Have you not heard of the revival?"
"Revival!" he said, calmly. "What is that?"
"The special services in my church."
"What services?"
This evidently was enough. He went out of the room to try and hurry the luncheon. My friend looked very thoughtful, and said nothing, but was clearly beginning to suspect that the judgment I had formed was not far wrong.