"Now perhaps they will happily disappoint you by coming back with a
wholesome interest aroused in Sunday-school work, and will really go
into the work for themselves."

"I don't want them," Dr. Dennis said, stoutly. "I wouldn't give a dime
for a hundred such workers; they are an injury to the cause. I want
Sunday-school workers who have a personal, vital sense of the worth of
souls, and a consuming desire to see them converted. All other
Sunday-school teaching is aimless."

Mr. Harrison looked thoughtful.

"We haven't many such, I am afraid," he said, gravely; but I agree with
you in thinking that they should at least be Christians. Still, I
suppose that it is not impossible that some one of these ladies may be
converted."

"Not at Chautauqua," Dr. Dennis said, as one who had looked into the
matter and knew all about it. "I am not entirely in sympathy with that
meeting, anyway; or, that is, I am and I am not, all at once. I think it
would be a grand place for you and me. I haven't the least doubt but
that we would be refreshed, bodily and mentally, and, for that matter,
spiritually. If the whole world were converted I should vote for
Chautauqua with a loud voice; but I am more than fearful as to the
influence of such meetings on the masses--the unconverted world. _They_
will go there for recreation. Their whole aim will be to have a glorious
frolic away from the restraints of ordinary home-life. They will have no
interest in the meetings, no sympathy with the central thought that has
drawn the workers together, and the tendency will be to frolic through