“There’s where we live,” exclaimed the girl.  “I think the park’s just grand.  I live in it nearly all summer.”

At this point of the conversation, a party to windward, among whom were the two Catholic Fathers, lighted their pipes, and the smoke streamed like from so many chimneys into the faces of those sitting near.  The minister looked sharply towards the puffing men, while Lucy tried to push the denser clouds away with her hands; but no notice was taken of such gentle remonstrances.

“I’ll speak to them,” suggested Chester.

“No; don’t.  It would only offend them,” said the minister.  “They think they are strictly within their rights, and it does not dawn on their nicotine poisoned wits that they are taking away other peoples’ rights,—­that of breathing the uncontaminated air.  We’ll just move our chairs a bit,” which they did.

“You don’t smoke, I take it,” continued the clergyman, addressing Chester.

“No; I quit two years ago.”

“Good for you.  It’s a vile habit, and I sometimes think the worst effect smoking has on people is that it dulls the nice gentlemanlyness of a man’s character.  Now, those men over there, even the Catholic Fathers, are, no doubt gentlemen in all respects but one; it’s a pity that the tobacco habit should make the one exception.”

Chester agreed in words, Lucy in looks.

“You say you have passed through Kansas City,” continued the father.  “How far west have you been?”

“To the Pacific Coast.”

“Lucy and I should have made this trip westward, but the doctor said we must not cross the mountains, because of her heart.  So an ocean voyage was advised.”

“And I did want so much to see the Rockies,” added the young woman.  “I have always had a longing to see our own mountains as well as those of Switzerland.  Next summer we’ll take that western trip.”

“I hope so, daughter.”

“I assure you they are worth seeing,” said Chester.

“No doubt about it.  Lucy and I have planned it all for some day.  Were you ever in Utah?”

“I lived for some time in Salt Lake City.  Be sure to see that town on your trip.”

The minister looked somewhat queerly at Chester for a moment.  Then his gaze swept out to the water again as if a momentary disturbing thought was gotten rid of.  Lucy was interested.

“Tell us about Salt Lake City, and, and the Mormons,’” pleaded she.

“Never mind the ‘Mormons,’ Lucy,” admonished her father.

“It’s difficult to speak of Utah and Salt Lake without mentioning the ‘Mormons,’” added Chester.

“Then let’s talk of something else, something more pleasant.”

Evidently this minister was like all others, Chester concluded; sane and intelligent on all subjects but one,—­the “Mormons.”  Well, he would set himself right before these two people, and do it now.

“I can say,” said Chester, “that my experience among the ‘Mormon’ people has been among the most pleasant of my life.  In fact, I don’t know where I can go to find a more honest, God-fearing, virtuous people.  I—­”