“A very poor selection for a Christian gathering,” he thought to himself.  Hubert was inexperienced, and to him a gathering of Christians meant a “Christian gathering.”

The parlors presented a gayly attractive scene.  They were decorated in red and white.  Flowers and foliage were profuse, and the handsome toilettes of the ladies added much to the brilliant effect.  Doctor Schoolman and his wife were receiving, and our party joined the line of guests making their orderly way toward them.  Doctor Schoolman was very amiable, and his wife, a vivacious little lady in satin and artificial curls, chatted volubly with the members of the flock as they were dutifully presented.

“You naughty child!” she cried playfully to Winifred.  “How could you desert us with your charming voice?  Dear Mrs. Gray, you really should chastise your daughter—­you really should!” And she shook the false curls with mock severity.

Mrs. Gray began her own lament and disclaimer of any responsibility in Winifred’s apostasy.

“But the dear child’s voice,” she said extenuatingly, “has really been very much taxed.”

“It’s not that,” said Winifred, honestly.  But Mrs. Schoolman’s eye was caught by the guest next in line and further explanations were unnecessary.

Meanwhile Doctor Schoolman had been greeting Hubert.

“Mr. Hubert Gray!” he exclaimed, very blandly.  “Really this is a pleasure.  I am glad to see you.”

“I am glad to come,” said Hubert, looking in the Doctor’s face frankly.  He wished to tell him how the Lord’s people had become so vitally his.  But the reverend gentleman did not note his earnest look.

“We are honored if you can give us some of your valuable time.  You are such a man of business, your father tells me; and of scientific research, too, as we all know.  It is kind to let us tear you away a little while from stocks and bonds and experiments.”

“I have concluded, Doctor Schoolman,” said Hubert gravely, “that there are interests more important than business or science.”

“Quite so—­quite so,” said Doctor Schoolman.  “I am glad you see it.  We cannot afford to give all our attention to the graver pursuits of life.  We need relaxation.  ’All work and no play’—­you know the old adage, eh?  Ha, ha!”

And the minister laughed an easy, social laugh, not at all boisterous, but of a mirth well in hand and suited to the occasion.

Hubert looked at him almost with a frown.  But we of wider experience are prepared to forgive the Doctor that he did not recognize the spiritual as the more important interests which might lead a young man to a church social.  While Hubert debated a reply which should illuminate Doctor Schoolman as to his real motive, others were pressing up to take the hand of the minister, and he passed on with his mother and Winifred.  They drifted not far away, and Hubert glanced frequently at Doctor Schoolman, watching his suave smile, almost catching the smooth pleasantries that fell from his accustomed tongue—­mild, clerical jests, wherewith he of the pulpit assures him of the pew, “I am as thou art.”  Very nice and proper it might all be, but to the one who longed to hear some word of Him whom he loved with such fresh, intense earnestness, it was as gall and wormwood.