she put her hand on his snowy arm appealingly.
“Oh, David, won’t you get up to-night? I do feel so dreadful bad — folks are talking so — I just feel humiliated.”
David Bell hung his head like a shamed schoolboy.
“I can’t, Mary,” he said huskily. “’Tain’t no use to pester me.”
“You don’t care for my feelings,” said his wife bitterly. “And Mollie won’t come out because you're acting so. You're keeping her back from salvation. And you’re hindering the success of the revival — Mr. Bentley says so.”
David Bell groaned. This sign of suffering wrung his wife’s heart. With quick contrition she whispered,
“There, never mind, David. I oughtn’t to have spoken to you so. You know your duty best. Let’s go in.”
“Wait.” His voice was imploring.
“Mary, is it true that Mollie won't come out because of me? Am I standing in my child’s light?”
“I — don’t — know. I guess not. Mollie’s just a foolish young girl yet. Never mind — come in.”
He followed her dejectedly in, and up the aisle to their pew in the center of the church. The building was warm and crowded. The pastor was reading
