promise to help her; (he never made a promise that he did not honestly
try to keep;) and he applied himself to the by no means thankless task
with the good-humored directness and energy that characterized all his
actions. There was quite a number of young girls in his parish, more
proportionately than in the others. Bell Masters and Amy Duckworth had
long been hovering on its borders, and the advent of so young and
prepossessing a rector had instantly removed their last scruples as to
infant baptism, and settled forever their doubts as to the apostolic
succession. They had come in at once. It was even whispered that Maria
Upjohn had in an incautious moment confessed that she preferred the
litany to Mr. Webb's spontaneous effusions, and had been summarily sat
upon by her mother, whose Bible contained an eleventh commandment
curiously omitted from the twentieth chapter of Exodus in other versions,
and reading: "Thou shalt not become an Episcopalian, and if possible,
thou shalt not be born one." Then there were Nellie Atterbury, and Janet
Mudge, and Polly and Mattie Dexter; there certainly was no lack of active
young teachers for the Sunday-school, and Phebe was well content to
remain passively aside, as of old. But, as Mrs. Lane remarked, there were
no drones allowed in Mr. Halloway's hive, and before long Phebe found
herself insensibly drawn in to be one of the workers too, with any
amount of business growing upon her hands, and herself, under this new
and wise guidance, becoming more and more capable for it every day.

"A new broom sweeps clean," remarked Mrs. Upjohn, contemptuously, as she
heard of the stir and life in St. Joseph's heretofore-dull little parish.
"For my part, I would rather have Mr. White back--if he weren't dead. He
was a good, sensible old man, who knew his place, and was contented to
let his Church simmer in the background, where it belongs. _He_ didn't go
flaunting his white gown in people's faces every Saint's day he could
trump up, let alone the Wednesday and Friday services. Who's Mr.