John was in some distress.

She went up-stairs to her bedroom, and tried to keep busy with sewing until she could go to him, but she was almost unconscious of what she did.

How long, how very long, the morning was! * * * * * John had looked up from his writing to see Mr.Dean standing in the doorway.
"Good-morning," he said cordially, as he rose to give his hand to his elder.

"I am glad to see you.

How have things gone since I have been away ?" But Mr.Dean seemed to have nothing special to report, and let the preacher tell him of General Assembly, while, embarrassed and very uncomfortable, he sat twisting his hat round and round in his big, rough hands.
A bar of sunshine from the south window crept across the floor, and touched the low dish of violets on the table, and then John's face, making a sudden golden glint in his gentle dark eyes.
"Mr.Ward," the elder said, at last, opening his mouth once or twice before he began to speak, "I have a distress on my mind.