XXIIIBefore Murray could quite take in all that that letter might mean to him, Mrs. Summers knocked on his door.
“Mr. Murray, Doctor Harrison wants to speak with you on the phone. He tried to get you twice last night before you came in. I forgot to tell you about it, it was so late. Can you come right down? He seems to be in a good deal of a hurry.”
“Sure! I’ll be there in half a second!” said Murray, springing out of bed and drawing on some garments hastily.
He hurried down to the telephone.
The minister’s voice came anxiously to him:
“Murray, is that you? Well, I’ve been trying to get you. You know your church letter came while you were away at the convention.”
“Letter?” said Murray, quite innocently, and thought sharply of the letter upstairs. Things were closing in about him. The
