Well, my wife is calling me down to tea.  Let me know what you do.  We shall move to Milton next week, probably, so, if you write, direct there.  As ever, your old chum, Philip strong.

It was characteristic of Philip that in this letter he said nothing about his call to Elmdale, and did not tell his college chum what salary was offered him by the church at Milton.  As a matter of fact he really forgot all about everything, except the one important event of his decision to go to Milton.  He regarded it, and rightly so, as the most serious step of his life; and while he had apparently decided the matter very quickly, it was, in reality, the result of a deep conviction that he ought to go.  He was in the habit of making his decisions rapidly.  This habit sometimes led him into embarrassing mistakes, and once in a great while resulted in humiliating reversals of opinion, so that people who did not know him thought he was fickle and changeable.  In the present case, Philip acted with his customary quickness, and knew very well that his action was unalterable.

CHAPTER II.

Within a week, Philip Strong had moved to Milton, as the church wished him to occupy the pulpit at once.  The parsonage was a well-planned house next the church, and his wife soon made everything look very homelike.  The first Sunday evening after Philip preached in Milton, for the first time, he chatted with his wife over the events of the day as they sat before a cheerful open fire in the large grate.  It was late in the fall and the nights were sharp and frosty.

“Are you tired to-night, Philip?” asked his wife.

“Yes, the day has been rather trying.  Did you think I was nervous?  Did I preach well?” Philip was not vain in the least.  He simply put the question to satisfy his own exacting demand on himself in preaching.  And there was not a person in the world to whom he would have put such a question except his wife.

“No, I thought you did splendidly.  I felt proud of you.  You made some queer gestures, and once you put one of your hands in your pocket.  But your sermons were both strong and effective; I am sure the people were impressed.  It was very still at both services.”

Philip was silent a moment.  And his wife went on.

“I am sure we shall like it here, Philip; what do you think?”

“I cannot tell yet.  There is very much to do.”

“How do you like the church building?”

“It is an easy audience room for my voice.  I don’t like the arrangement of the choir over the front door.  I think the choir ought to be down on the platform in front of the people, by the side of the minister.”

“That’s one of your hobbies, Philip.  But the singing was good, didn’t you think so?”

“Yes, the choir is a good one.  The congregation didn’t seem to sing much, and I believe in Congregational singing, even when there is a choir.  But we can bring that about in time, I think.”