“No, thank you.  I am going right straight to bed.  I am tired.”

Into the little manse she crept, sinking into the first easy chair that presented itself.  With slow listless fingers she removed her wraps, dropping them on the floor beside her,—­laboriously unbuttoned and removed her shoes, and in the same lifeless manner loosened her dress and took the pins from her hair.  Then, holding her garments about her, she went in search of night dress, slippers and negligee.  A few seconds later she returned and curled herself up with some cushions on the floor before the fireplace.

“Ought to make some coffee,—­David’s so hungry after church,—­too—­dead—­tired—­Ummmmm.”  Her voice trailed off into a murmur and she closed her eyes.

David found her so, soundly sleeping, her hair curling about her face.  He knelt down and kissed her.  She opened one eye.

“Coffee?” she queried automatically.

“I should say not.  Go to bed.”  He sprawled full length on the floor, his head against her arm.

“Worn out, aren’t you, David?”

“Well, I’m ready for bed; Such a day!  Did you have time for Mrs. Garder before Endeavor?”

“Yes, she knew me too.  I am glad I went.  She had been waiting for me.  They say it is only a few days now.  The way of a minister’s wife is hard sometimes.  She wanted me to sing Lead Kindly Light, and was so puzzled and confused when I insisted I couldn’t sing.  She thought ministers’ wives always sang.  I know she is disappointed in me now.  If the Lord foreknew that I was going to marry a minister, why didn’t He foreordain that I should sing?”

David laughed, but attempted no explanation.

“Did you get along all right at the Old Ladies’ Home?”

“Oh, fine.  The girls sang beautifully, and I read the Bible lesson without mispronouncing a single word.  Did the boys miss me at the Hollow?”

“Yes, they said they needed you worse than the old ladies.  Maybe they were right.  We must save your Sunday afternoons for them after this.  They do need you.”

“Did you have supper with the Baldwins?”

“Yes.  You stayed with Mrs. Norris, didn’t you?”

“Yes.  Um, I am sleepy.”

David coughed slightly.

“Get up off this floor, David Duke,” scolded Carol.  “Don’t you know that floors are always drafty?  I am surprised at you.  I wish Prudence was here to make you soak your feet in hot water and drink peppermint tea.”

“You work too hard, Carol.  You are busy every minute.”

“Yes.  I have to be, to keep in hailing distance of you.  You usually do about three things at once.”

“It’s been a good year, Carol.  You’ve enjoyed it, spite of everything, haven’t you?”

“It’s been the most wonderful year one could dream of.  Even Connie’s literary imagination could not conjure up a sweeter one.”

“Always something to do, something to think of, some one to see,—­always on the alert, to-day crowded full, to-morrow to look forward to.”