Three months of the new life had wrought changes in Theron.  He bore himself more erectly, for one thing; his shoulders were thrown back, and seemed thicker.  The alteration was even more obvious in his face.  The effect of lank, wistful, sallow juvenility had vanished.  It was the countenance of a mature, well-fed, and confident man, firmer and more rounded in its outlines, and with a glow of health on its whole surface.  Under the chin were the suggestions of fulness which bespeak an easy mind.  His clothes were new; the frock-coat fitted him, and the thin, dark-colored autumn overcoat, with its silk lining exposed at the breast, gave a masculine bulk and shape to his figure.  He wore a shining tall hat, and, in haste though he was, took pains not to knock it against low-hanging branches.

All had gone well—­more than well—­with him.  The second Quarterly Conference had passed without a ripple.  Both the attendance and the collections at his church were larger than ever before, and the tone of the congregation toward him was altered distinctly for the better.  As for himself, he viewed with astonished delight the progress he had made in his own estimation.  He had taken Sister Soulsby’s advice, and the results were already wonderful.  He had put aside, once and for all, the thousand foolish trifles and childish perplexities which formerly had racked his brain, and worried him out of sleep and strength.  He borrowed all sorts of books boldly now from the Octavius public library, and could swim with a calm mastery and enjoyment upon the deep waters into which Draper and Lecky and Laing and the rest had hurled him.  He dallied pleasurably, a little languorously, with a dozen aspects of the case against revealed religion, ranging from the mild heterodoxy of Andover’s qualms to the rude Ingersoll’s rollicking negation of God himself, as a woman of coquetry might play with as many would-be lovers.  They amused him; they were all before him to choose; and he was free to postpone indefinitely the act of selection.  There was a sense of the luxurious in this position which softened bodily as well as mental fibres.  He ceased to grow indignant at things below or outside his standards, and he bought a small book which treated of the care of the hand and finger nails.

Alice had accepted with deference his explanation that shapely hands played so important a part in pulpit oratory.  For that matter, she now accepted whatever he said or did with admirable docility.  It was months since he could remember her venturing upon a critical attitude toward him.

She had not wished to leave home, for the seaside or any other resort, during the summer, but had worked outside in her garden more than usual.  This was inexpensive, and it seemed to do her as much good as a holiday could have done.  Her new devotional zeal was now quite an odd thing; it had not slackened at all from the revival pitch.  At the outset she had tried several times to talk with her husband upon