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 ^ xIPPLIED IN4/^GE 
 
 1653 East Main Stmt 
 
 Rochester, New York U609 US* 
 
 (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 (716) 288- 5989 -Fox 
 
The Training of Silas 
 
■ 
 
 THE 
 TRAINING OF P>ILAS 
 
 By Rev. F J. DFVINE, S. J. 
 
 Author qf "Atnus Widtil Americor- 
 
 yenifhundland to Alatka" 
 
 U *W - /.r« ,fifn,r.n, h„urU,, „ vulfrU,, U , »«,/««.r. "-«,,/. 
 
 New York, Cincinnati, Chicago 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS 
 
 printers to the holv apostolic see 
 1M« 
 
P^3,Da<^\ 
 
 Copyright, 1905, by the "Ecclesiastical Review' 
 Copyright, 1906, by Benziger BrotheiS 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER '' 
 
 I A Nefarious Scheme Unearthed 
 n The Pastor Begins to "Pull Wifles" 
 ni Three Ladies Drink Tea 
 
 IV The Pastor Takes the Public into His Confi 
 dence 
 
 V Lay Forces are Called into Action 
 
 VI Human Nature Bobs Up . . . 
 
 VII A Millionaire with a Hobby 
 
 VIII The Festival in Monument Hall . 
 
 IX Unrest in the Camp of the Enemy 
 
 X A Professional Lecturer Causes a Sensation 
 
 XI The Fountain in Blenheim Square 
 
 xn Father Smclair Begins to Operate on an 
 Editor 
 
 xm Burton Assists at an "Auto da F^" 
 
 XIV Miss Garvey Leads on to Success 
 
 XV The Passing of Little Helen . 
 
 XVI The Free Library Begins its Career 
 
 xvn The Ekevir Makes a Counter-Movement 
 
 xvni A Winter Episode in Laurenboro 
 
 PAGE 
 
 9 
 21 
 35 
 
 43 
 51 
 61 
 71 
 91 
 99 
 111 
 121 
 
 135 
 147 
 167 
 177 
 185 
 197 
 t07 
 
 174294 
 
G>ntents 
 
 CHAPTER p^Qj 
 
 XIX Brighter Prospects for the Library . 221 
 
 XX The Pastor Entertains a Visitor 281 
 
 XXI Silas and the Chief Have a Lonj? Talk . 241 
 
 xxii The Capitulation of Htirron .... 249 
 
 XXIII The Millionaire Sees Things from a New 
 
 Standpoint 261 
 
 XXIV Mrs. Melgrove Gives the Chief a Few Emo- 
 
 tions jiriT 
 
 XXV Silas Maglundy Earns the Gratitude of 
 
 Laurenboro 297 
 
 XXVI A Marriage— and All Ends Well ... 307 
 
*» 
 
 The Training of Silas 
 
 •I 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPl^R I 
 
 Father Sinclair Unearths a Nefarious Scheme 
 
 T^HE West End of Laurenboro had been deserted 
 aU summer. Ever since the first days of July 
 what with barred doors, closed bUnds, awnings' 
 raised, and noiseless streets, the aristocratic section 
 of the great metropolis looked like a dty of the dead 
 The urban wealth and fashion had transferred its 
 quarters for the time being either to the Maine coast 
 with its invigorating salt breezes, or to the cool and 
 mvitmg regions of the Lower St. Lawrence. Those 
 who were particularly in search of health and diver- 
 sion had gone to the mountain haunts of the 
 Adirondacks, or found change amid transatlantic 
 scenery and tourist life in the Scotch Highlands or 
 the Continental Alps. Altogether the West End had 
 been vacated, and except for the appearance, here 
 and there, of some solitary gardener aimlessly wan- 
 denng about the premises, and the undisturbed 
 
I! 
 
 Father Sinclair Uneartlis 
 
 warbling of the song-birds in the maples, there was 
 absolutely no sign of life. 
 
 No such changes had taken place in the Gottingen 
 quarter, where the poor and the working classes 
 lived. There the warm summer months were spent, 
 as usual, amid the ceaseless hum of factoiy life! 
 Men and women bustled and toiled from dawn to 
 night, in shop and workroom, in courtyard and 
 street, for the bread they were to eat. For them 
 there was no season of sight-seeing; no ocean breeze 
 or bracing mountain air, which God had made so 
 Uberally ; and if the sturing summer wind, that gentiy 
 fans the cheek of rich and poor alike, found its way 
 into the Gottingen quarter, it had already lost half 
 its freshness and soothing power. For all that, the 
 want of bodily comforts did not destroy the peace of 
 mind in the poor people who dwelt here. They were 
 Catholics for the most part, who. faithful to the 
 teachings of the Church, did not look on poverty as 
 an evil, but rather as a means to help them to procure 
 an eternal reward in heaven. The Gottingen poor 
 were satisfied with their condition. 
 
 To will what God doth will, that is the only sdence 
 That gives us rest, 
 
 was a lesson they had long since learned; and 
 contentment, if not gratitude for their lot, reigned 
 among those who toiled for their daily sustenance. 
 
 10 
 
 *> 
 
A Nefarioas Scheme 
 
 Father Sinclair spent much of his time amomr 
 them. During the summer months, when he took 
 the annual parish census, he made it a point to 
 welcome the new arrivals whom the immigration 
 season usually brought in considerable numbers. 
 It was then also that he made his plans for their 
 betterment, through the organized means of parish 
 umons among the well-to-do people in the neighbor- 
 hood, who were practically out of his reach during 
 Uie vacation season, but on whom he depended 
 dunr^ the winter months for practical assistance. 
 He himself rarely look a midsummer hoUday. Not 
 that the pastor of St. Paul's was averse to legitimate 
 recreation. On the contrary, he often urged those 
 of his flock who. whilst they had the means and 
 leisure to go out of town, hesitated to abandon 
 certain works which they had undertaken at his 
 request, to spend some weeks away f,x>m the stiflimr 
 surrxiundings of Laurenboro. and to seek the whole- 
 some atmosphere of country or seashore Ufe. His 
 own interests, he more than once asserted, did not 
 permit him to leave his post, unless it were for a 
 short tnp over the Great Lakes and down the river 
 to the Gulf. And that luxury he had allowed 
 hunself but once in the ten years of his residerce 
 in the metropolis. When his people argued the 
 matter with him. he readily acknowledged the 
 pnnaple of necessary recreation even for the shep- 
 
 
Father Sinclair Unearths 
 
 herd of souls, after the arduous work of a twelve- 
 month's ministry in a large city; indeed, he never 
 denied that a few weeks of rest in some quiet nook 
 on the seacoast would have been a welcome change 
 to him. But the trouble was he could not find the 
 time. The clergy of the Religious Orders, who 
 might have taken his place at other seasons of the 
 year, were busy themselves during the summer 
 months, giving retreats and preparing for mission 
 or college work to begin in the autumn. At other 
 times of the year, the interests of his people did not 
 permit hira to leave liis flock. 
 
 Father Sinclair's habit therefore was to stay at 
 home; but what recreation and useful information 
 the want of travel and actual observation deprived 
 him of, he amply made up for by useful reading. 
 His taste— one might say his passion— in this direc- 
 tion was apparent to any casual visitor at the glebe- 
 house. Books filled every nook and comer of the 
 modest dwelling, includmg bedroom and hall. 
 History, science, philosophy, poetry— treasures of 
 thought and truth— carefully selected, were at his 
 beck and caU. He loved to hide himself away with 
 these silent companions, in the quiet hours of the 
 night, to commune with the ever-Uving thoughts 
 of vanished minds, to stray into new fields of useful 
 knowledge, to trace the tangled paths of legitimate 
 speculation, to lose hlLiself in the reveries of scientific 
 
 li 
 
 
T 
 
 f 
 
 I 1 
 
 A Nefarious Scheci* 
 dreamland. With M«. Browning, he believed that 
 
 By being ungenerous, even in a book. 
 And calculating profits— so much help 
 By so much reading. It is rather when 
 Sonfc"'i^K°'5^*°""*'^«''*°d plunge ' 
 houl-forward headlong, into a booFs profound 
 Impassioned for its beauty, and salt oCh- ' 
 Tis then we get the right good from a book. 
 
 One evening in the first week in August, he was 
 seated m his study, carefully perusing a document 
 which had reached him in the morning's mail It 
 was the semi-annual Report of the Elzevir Library 
 a pamphlet skilf lly tabulated and printed, so that a 
 reader could take in at a glance the work of ti.at 
 mstitution during the preceding six months 
 
 C)wingJo the initiative of the Directors, the 
 tsjzevir had been a prominent name for years in 
 Laurenboro. Founded by non-sectarian enteiprise. 
 It had remained a non-sectarian institution. Hence 
 It did Its best to please everybody. Readers of books 
 m the city and suburbs all knew the way to the 
 
 f «J^V"p^'''"°^'" ^^"""^' ^ *^^* *h« pastor 
 of St Paul s was not surprised to learn, when he 
 
 laid down the Report, that the circulation had gone 
 into the thousands and was continually on the 
 increase. 
 
 The needless emphasis laid upon the "non- 
 sectarian" character of the Libraiy by its promoters 
 had often made Father Sinclair suspect that all was 
 
 IS 
 
Father Sinclair Unearths 
 
 not r^ht there. So far as he knew, Catholics had 
 no voice m the management of the institution. The 
 Board of Directors was made uj of member of 
 different religious denominations; and. as he had 
 been informed, there was at least one professing 
 atheist among them. He was aware, too, that 
 many books antagonistic to truth were to be found 
 on the shelves of the Elzevir, although the tabulated 
 Itepor. before him was silent regarding this phase 
 of the circulation, and in fact no hint whatever 
 was given as to the number of religious books caUed 
 for by readers. A statement throwing light in this 
 direction would have interested Father Sinclair 
 veiy much. One paragraph in the Report, however, 
 caught his eye. It mentioned the fact of a recent 
 legacy amounting to twenty-five thousand dollars 
 which had been left to the institution. The passage 
 that struck Father Sinclair read as follows : 
 
 1, " ^u* Directors are aware that while they desire to 
 keep the Elzevir strictly non-sectarian, the pr^fn^ of 
 
 Sl^ToTrl-nTr*;"'" '° Laur;nb^,^'SnXs i 
 «f^f^ !k ?""^*^^ literature to suit the peculiar views 
 0,3 •' ST.uP*f'°"^ " t« ^ retains^ K vS 
 thwefor<^^that the legacy of twenty-five thousand dX« 
 
 ™ , ^, *V« *"PP'y of dtnominational literature and 
 mfacihtating the circulation thereof." '""*'""*• *"^ 
 
 Here was food for reflection; and the pastor 
 reflected deeply. Laurenboro. a city more than 
 half CathoUc. without a CathoUc library, was about 
 
 14 
 
»; 
 
 A Nefarious Scheme 
 
 to have ft carioad of denominational literature flung 
 broadcast among its people. What sort would it 
 be? How much of its anti-Catholic poison would 
 be likely to find its way into CathoUc homes P—for 
 "Denominational Literature" unquestionably meant 
 Protestant literature, with its prejudices, its mis- 
 statements, its bitterness against the CathoUc 
 Church. No one who had any knowledge of current 
 works deahng with the subject of religion could 
 have a doubt that by far the lai^r number of 
 books which the Elzevir directors were likely to 
 place on their shelves would be antagonistic to 
 the faith of Father Sinclair's people. The pastor 
 left his chair and paced the floor 
 
 A great idea had suddenly flashed on his mind. 
 As he paced slowly up and down the room, a scheme, 
 shadowy, at first, and indistinct in its outlines, began' 
 graduaUy to unfold itself and take on a definite 
 shape. Before he came to a halt he had determined 
 on a plan of action. The case was clearly ui^ent; 
 something must be done at once. 
 
 A few minutes later he turned down the light and 
 went out on the balcony, a quiet, retired nook on 
 the south side of the rectory overlooking the Brono. 
 The house had once been the centre of an inde- 
 pendent suburb, which in the course of time had 
 coalesced vr;th. and been incorporated into, the 
 neighboring city; while its subsequent development 
 
I 
 
 Father Sinclair Unearthi 
 
 in other directions had left the church and glebe- 
 house on the outskirts of the parish. From the 
 pastor's point of viev. there was some compensation 
 for this, however, in that he was here within easy 
 reach of the factory quarters which constituted the 
 heaviest part of his parochial responaibiliUes. The 
 night was exceedingly beautiiul; th^-re was not a 
 cloud in the sky. From her coign of vantage in the 
 heavens the moon was flooding the earth with light, 
 and Its rays. glJrting on the surface of the river* 
 made it shine likt. burnished sUver in the distance.' 
 The only sounds to be heard were the muflled beat 
 of a steamer's paddles, an occasional plash of oars 
 and the final strains of a band playing in the Eagle* 
 Rotunda, nearly a mile away. Directly opposite 
 could be ^aen the dark outlines and myriad lights 
 of a large steamer moving swiftly downstream. 
 
 For a few minutes the pastor remained motionless, 
 dnabng in the calm beauty of the scene; and then 
 gradually his thoughts drifted back again into their 
 former channel. 
 
 "Why not?" he continued to muse. "Why 
 should not Laurenboro. with its fifty thousand 
 Catholics, have its own Catholic Librarv? In this 
 city our foundUngs and orphans are housed and 
 cared for; our poor are clothed and fed; the aged 
 and incurable are soothed in their last days; here 
 every form of physical infirmity is tenderly cared 
 
 16 
 
A NefarJota Scheme 
 
 tor by CathoUc charity. U U not possible to be 
 equally generous in allaying the infinnities of the 
 mind? Thousands of dollars are spent eveiy year 
 by us in the rare of diseased human bodies. Out- 
 I side the ministry of the priesthood and the work of 
 
 I our two colleges and convents, what is Catholic 
 
 a charity in Laurenboro doing for souls ? In this dty 
 
 we have no public sources of knowledge but the 
 daily press and the Elzevir ^.ad Humboldt libraries. 
 For year:, hundreds of my flock have had to depend 
 on these doubtful sources for their mind-food. And 
 is not intellectual poverty and corruption a far 
 greater evil than any that can aflBict the body? 
 What a change for the better would take place in 
 the mental condition of our people, if healthy i«id. 
 mg were provided for them. The result would be 
 sound thinking, and its inevitable sequel, sound 
 iivmg." It was thus that the pastor mused. 
 
 Father Sinclair was a man of many resources; 
 but he was the first to admit that, no matter how 
 cogent the motives, the work of starting a new 
 library under Catholic patronage in a city where 
 two large book centres for the accommodation of 
 the general public existed already, had many thorny 
 sides to it. St. Paul's parish was, moreover, one 
 of the smallest in Laurenboro. It embraced, as 
 already stated, the new factoiy sites and tenements 
 of the Gottingen district. This was on one side; on 
 
 17 
 
Father Sinclair Unearthf 
 
 the other, where the lowUnds led up to Ashbume 
 Avenue, there lived a -v of the wealthier famiUes- 
 there was hardly any m. Ae class. The people were' 
 M a rule, and according to their means, generous in' 
 the support of the pari,- h. In the beginning, how- 
 ever, there had been some who showed themselves 
 mchned to look askance at the zeal of the young 
 pastor, and rather discouraged one or two of his 
 projects for the betterment of the people, taking for 
 granted that an excess of enthusiasm is best met by 
 an exccM of reserve. Perhaps their attitude found 
 Its jrstification in some unpromising financial ven- 
 tures of one of the former pastora of the parish; but 
 on thw he did not reflect. He only recalled the 
 struggle mto which he found himself forced when 
 he began the parochial school in Gottingen; also 
 the almost cvnical indifference which he encountered 
 fiom the professional men of his district when he 
 had undertaken to make some move toward main- 
 taming a distinctly Catholic social li . among the 
 students-strangers in Laurenboro-who attended 
 the Royalview University; there had likewise been 
 a strong and unrelenting opposition to his pereonaUy 
 undertaking the purchase of a section of the Helerand 
 estate to serve as a home for incurables. But in 
 these enterprises-to mention no others of a simUar 
 character-he had managed to overcome opposition 
 and mdifference by that quiet persistence .rhich 
 
A Ncfarioia Sebone 
 
 •ctu.^ result, were th«. who had imhe bqriimi™. 
 bitterly opposed him. "««uiiuilg 
 
 r«.rr>iry^rh".-/-<' 
 
 to overrode thm physical hardship or me„l J I,b„" 
 na^ cau«. 0„ the other hand. h. „^^ 
 the devofon with wUch the hulk of hi- ZT, 
 h«l Hood by hi., freely opening thrirpuLT^n 
 
 When theu^ own eye, had made it evident to th^m 
 On the whole the experiences of the l«t t« y .^' 
 »ther encou^ged hin, to by ,„ solve th- ^bleT 
 ^rd.^.*"*^"-"^— "—wo. 
 
 It 
 

CHAPTER II 
 
 The Pastor Begins to "PuU Wires** 
 
 J'HEsummermonthspassedn.pidlyaway. When 
 
 October came, it brought with it /r.* . 
 
 activity in the West End dJI^^"^ ""^ 
 
 ;;,v, 1, J "'<^""e. tow the passeis-bv thai (!.» 
 «i<c had returned to resnm. •!. • . 
 
 Pleasure for the wi„,e° ""'""'' '»" <" 
 
 the grei tidr '"''"""'• '^'' "^» -Jonl 
 "t great wide avenue were shprlH,V« *u • 
 
 leaves in myriads, and caiTu ' fh^ **^'^' ^^"^ 
 Workmen were busv n„» ^^/ ^ ^'*^ ^P*^^*- 
 in the MelTZ Z ^ °^ "^ *^' ^'"*^'' ^^'^^^^^^ 
 tying do^rel^~.r^ *'^ '^^^'■^^' 
 season, which Zinf ^7^^"^ ^°' "*" ^°"« ^'^t^ 
 ened tn h/l ^ ^ '* ^'^ '^*'»«r early, threat- 
 
 ened to be more severe than usual 
 
 InasmaI,^,p,rforsatM«.Meign,veandtwo 
 
The Pastor Begins 
 
 
 I 
 
 1 i 
 
 ladies, discussing the summer's outing. The hostess 
 had just returned from Europe the week before 
 and was giving her impressions. She was a tall 
 finely-proportioned woman of middle-age, with a 
 genial manner and the evidences of culture in 
 language and movement. She had been blessed 
 with a goodly share of the world's wealth. During 
 the past twenty years, her leisure moments, spared 
 from her family, a husband and a little daughter, 
 had been devoted to helping the poor, visiting the 
 city hospitals and the sick in their homes. It was 
 nothing to surprise anyone that the name of Mrs. 
 Horace Melgrove should stand at the head of, and 
 be identified with, several of the pious associations 
 attached to St. Paul's Church. 
 
 Her two lady visitors were likewise well known 
 as associates with her in various schemes for the 
 betterment of the poor. The elder, Miss Rayford, 
 was a quiet little woman of a distinctly Uterary turn 
 of mind. She had, indeed, for years taken very 
 great interest in works of outdoor charity, but never- 
 theless she still found time to write attractive stories 
 and essays »f a thoughtful character that made her 
 known in many homes, not only of her own city, but 
 abroad. 
 
 The other person in conference with Mrs. Mel- 
 grove was Mary Garvey, a lady somewhat vivacious, 
 
 impressionable, open to a fault, and very energetic 
 
 22 
 
To '* Pan Wires " 
 
 m canying out anything she had once undertaken. 
 She never seemed to feel the slightest hesitation in 
 telhng other, her opinion of them; but her mam," 
 and tone robbed her outspoken way of the offensive 
 dement so commonly associated with criticism. 
 This alone would explain how she managed to keep 
 
 t1:1^"*°m""^ «"**^™otTerreasor 
 The fa^ IS. Mjss Garvey was hked by everybody in 
 S. Paul s pansh; for no one doubted that her plL 
 speaking proceeded from an honest heart. Her 
 
 stances died when she was but a little child. She 
 had fdlen heir to a modest competency, wWch 
 allowed her ample leisui. to devote wJ to g^d 
 works, a privilege she did not faU to use. For some 
 
 Garvey had been, as already intimated, the recog- 
 nized leader m eveiy charitable movement .'.^ti;. 
 duced among Father Sinclair's people. Today 
 they were to meet their pastor at Mi.. Melgn>ve'I 
 Wto^Ulk over some enteiprisevMch he e^^^^^^^ 
 
 "I wonder what it can be." said the hostess. 
 
 ookmg at the note from the priest which she held 
 m her hand, but the brief contents of which furnished 
 no adequate clue a. to the object of the meeting. 
 
 No doubt, Father Sinclair has some new scheme 
 for the young people, but it is rather early to get us 
 
1 t 
 i 
 
 The Pastor Begins 
 
 to work, with all the domestic and social demands 
 of the return season upon us. Someone told me in 
 Paris that the scheme for establishing parish beds 
 in the Contagious Hospital had failed." 
 
 "Of course, it failed," returned Miss Garvey. 
 " What else could you expect ? The Newell family 
 left town the very day our Hospital Committee was 
 to meet; and naturally the outsiders stepped in and 
 we lacked the requisite number of votes, — so there 
 you are." 
 
 "There is something new brewing, at all events," 
 said the hostess, smiling. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," replied Miss Garvey. "I was 
 out yesterday when Father Sinclair called, and I got 
 his note only an hour ago. But from a few words he 
 dropped in my hearing the other day, I infer that 
 he plans some scheme for purchasing books. Did 
 you know that the Elzevir people were going to 
 extend their library along Fessenden Avenue ?" 
 
 "I saw something to that effect in the Times 
 yesterday— you may be sure they will succeed in 
 getting the necessary appropriation; they can control 
 public patronage," answered Mrs. Melgrove. 
 
 It was close on three o'clock when the door-bell 
 rang. A moment later Father Sinclair was ushered 
 into the small parlor where the ladies were waiting. 
 
 He was a tall, well-built man, though seemingly 
 not strong, about forty years of age, or a little more, 
 
 84 
 

 To "Pan Wires" 
 
 with an expression of face that indicated at once 
 ener^ and dehcacy. People recognized him as one 
 of the prominent citizens of Laurenboro; and whilst 
 one might have observed a certain reserve between 
 the pnest and the official arbiters of the town with 
 whom he was thrown in contaet. there was no lack 
 of courtesy on either side when they met in the public 
 thoroughfares. 
 
 Soon after his ordination, seventeen years before. 
 Father Sinclair had been appointed parish priest in 
 a small village on the coast, where his duties were 
 hght. and where he had ample time for self-improve- 
 ment. There he had enjoyed a season of compara- 
 tive leisure and solitude, which had become for him 
 an unconscious preparation for more difficult tasks 
 in the future. He had found time for study, even 
 for wnting; and his articles in the different maga- 
 anes together with a published volume oTThe 
 attitude of the Chun^h towards Evolution, had 
 given him a reputation for studious habits among 
 his brother priests. It was not many years befoi; 
 his Ordmaiy felt that he might safely entrust the 
 more important interests of a city parish to the z.al 
 and prudence of the young priest; accordingly, upon 
 the first vacancy in Laurenboro. he was notified that 
 fie was to be transferred thither. 
 
 The proposed change was a sore trial to him. 
 His more mtimate friends were well aware that it 
 
The Pastor Begins 
 
 would cost him no little sacrifice to put away his 
 books, or, at least, to give up the solitude and 
 leisure which made them especially valuable to him. 
 He also loved his little flock and r^retted to part 
 with them, whatever else might be in store for him. 
 By nature sensitive, retiring, a lover of the good and 
 beautiful in art, he dreaded the responsibilities of 
 the ministry, t(^ether with the noise and bustle, of 
 a large city. Hence, when the formal oflfer of the 
 pastorship of St. Paul's came to him, he requested 
 his superiors to let him retain his cure in Rockdale, 
 where he was contented and thought himself useful 
 to a d^ree in proportion with his talents. But 
 the Archbishop knew the pastor better than the 
 pastor kn' v himself, and insisted that he comply with 
 his wishes. And Father Sinclair, known to but few 
 people outside his immediate circle, was promptly 
 installed in the vacant parish, much to the surprise 
 of older candidates and their friends. 
 
 Ten years had elapsed since then, and during the 
 decade the pastor of St. Paul's had distinguished 
 himself as an organizer who could sustain and carry 
 to completion any work he had seen fit to undertake. 
 
 "You are more punctual than I, ladies. I hope I 
 have not kept you waiting, although even that can 
 scarcely have been a hardship m Mrs. Melgrove's 
 cosy parlor this bleak afternoon," said Father 
 Sinclair, genially, as he took his seat at the vacant 
 
 26 
 
To " Ptxfl Wires " 
 
 aide of the table. "You are curious to know, 
 doubtless." he continued, "why I have asked you to 
 meet so early in the season. It is to discuss a plan 
 which seems to me feasible enough, if we get the 
 proper support from our own people. If we succeed 
 in carrying it through, it will do untold good in 
 this city, chiefly among our children and young 
 people. 
 
 He drew a notebook from an inner pocket and 
 took out a small sheet of paper on which he had 
 jotted down some items for direction. 
 
 "You may have seen." he went on to say. "that 
 the Elzevir—" 
 
 Miss Garvey gave a nod to the other ladies, as 
 much as to say. "I told you it was a book scheme." 
 "—has been making bids during the summer to 
 secure a larger patronage. There has been quite 
 recently a bequest of twenty-five thousand dollars, 
 which is intended, I am reliably informed, to extend 
 the circulation of reading matter that trenches 
 directly upon religious ground. At the same time, 
 efforts are being made to get our children to patronize 
 the Kbrary. I had a visit from two of the directors 
 a few days ago. Their plan is to establish a Chil- 
 dren's Department, and to augment their stores of 
 denominational literature. In order to do that, they 
 are making arrangements to get some of our own 
 wealthy people interested." 
 
 27 
 
The Pastor Begins 
 
 "They'll get Mr. Maglundy, sure. U they go after 
 him," softly interjected Miss Garvey. 
 
 "Now, you know, ladies, as well as I do," con- 
 tinued the pastor, marking the interruption by a 
 pleasant nod of his head, "what a misfortune such 
 an addition would l>e in a city like ours. There is 
 to be no discrimination in the choice of books as far 
 as religion is concerned. Everything is to be free 
 and unsectarian. This was one of the provisions in 
 the will of the benefactor; indeed, the directors who 
 came to see me insisted on this point, as though it 
 were a Ukely inducement to gain my approbation to 
 the scheme of what they consider a pubUc service of 
 equal rights. Now non-sectarianism means non- 
 Catholic; it means that no preference is to be shown 
 to any reUgion; it means indiffeientism; it assumes 
 the absurd tenet that God could be as well pleased 
 with one religion as with another. It means that 
 two men may propagate contradictory doctrines, and 
 yet both be right. Now tliis is false; this is not even 
 common sease. A denominational hbrary here in 
 Laurenboro including all sorts of pleas for and 
 against religion would be a danger for our non- 
 educated Catholics, because it would be unfair to 
 their own creed, and we must do our best to keep 
 it from doing them harm. 
 
 "Here, ladies, is a question for you to answer." 
 Father Sinclair consulted his notes. " St. Paul's is a 
 
 28 
 
? 
 
 i 
 
 ■ 
 
 To "Pttfl Wires" 
 
 small parish, but we have, in thi%. I««,^ •* 
 
 lift, thousand C..hoB„. 4 ".1 IZkyt:^" 
 
 . aWe energefc work, to begin . IL,y ^ our o™ 
 7->n . »n«dl «ale al fi^t-u, „eet tog J, 7Z 
 
 ZZ " •" "^^l""""™ »' good i^\Zl 
 
 whom the matter appeaU equally «,«ngly ™d it 
 ^U n^ be many yea. beW we sill haTj c'th.^' 
 lie hbr.^ such aa we may be proud of." 
 
 fearit^llLl.^ discourage your project. I 
 
 fear .t will be hard to awaken the enthusiasm amoni, 
 
 pnse I need hardly say that, viewed from a pei^nal 
 *.ndpomt and considering our needs. tlTe'X^ 
 
 that ate ^l ' ™"«- f- sample, in thinking 
 that It means that we should have to get a central 
 s.te. a place m the city ac«ssible to tte Ca hofc 
 from an parts? » we could open a Bbraiy herol 
 our own neighborhood, thero ^.ht be oJv . Kh 
 or at^e^ .ess diffic^.,, ,„, ^ 2^:11: 
 
 " '"•"' ""™ ' Who would be wiHing to aid us 
 
lit 
 
 The Pastor Begins 
 
 outside our own small parish of St. Paul's ? Apart 
 from the cost of maintaining a building or rooms in 
 a convenient locality at a probably high rent, not 
 to speak of purchase, how should we get a sufficient 
 stock of really good books to satisfy those readers 
 who are now drawn to the Elzevir and Humboldt 
 libraries, because they find there almost any book 
 they wish to call for ? You would have to engage a 
 number of salaried librarians and secretaries, — 
 which means constant and considerable expense. I 
 speak with some assurance on the subject, because 
 I hft-. been interested in, and once tried, a similar 
 scheme, years ago in the Provinces. We started 
 under the most favorable auspices, with a building 
 excellently located. But eventually we found the 
 expenses for rent, salaries, the renewal and purchase 
 of books, and other unforeseen items, such a drain 
 on our resources that we were obliged to give 
 up the matter in order to ward off serious 
 complications." 
 
 "If you will allow me," said the priest, turning 
 over his notes, "I have already given thought to 
 what seemed to me the most likely and reasonable 
 objections. Let me answer those that you have just 
 made, Mrs. Melgrove." 
 
 While he was speaking, a maid came softly into 
 
 the room and set a match to the spirit lamp; in a few 
 
 minutes the samovar was steaming. 
 
 so 
 
To "Pafl Wires" 
 
 "In the first place, as to the site," continued 
 Father Sinclair, "there is our Young Men's Club 
 which is sufficiently central; the electric care run all 
 around it to every part of the city. On the second 
 floor they have a very lai^e room all wainscoted and 
 tiled and heated by steam, which has been used as a 
 ger.oral meeting-place in the evenings. The com- 
 mittee in charge of the club have told mo that we 
 may fit up this hall as a library in a way which need 
 not divert it from its present use. They are perfectly 
 content that we should have the place for an in- 
 definite period without cost." 
 
 " There might be some opposition to putting our- 
 selves under obligation to any local parish organiza- 
 tion for the purpose of supplying reading matter 
 for the others," ui^ed Mrs. Mel/jrove. 
 
 "Such an objection would be entirely unreason- 
 able, ' replied Father Sinclair. " I do not think that 
 we can please everybody; and surely that should not 
 prevent us from working." 
 The ladies smiled acquiescence. 
 "Let me dispose of your other objection,— the 
 appointment of a librarian and salaries. As the 
 proposed scheme could take the shape, at present, 
 of only a circulating library, until we see our way 
 clear to do something more, there is no reason why 
 a couple of houre a week should not be sufficient to 
 exchange books. Could we not secure the services 
 
 31 
 
The Pastor Begini 
 
 of say five or six young ladies for two houn eveiy 
 
 Wednesday and Sunday afternoon?" 
 "There is no doubt about it," said Miss Rayford. 
 
 who had kept sUent up to this. "I know several* 
 
 who, I am sure, would be willing to come—" 
 "And Miss CJarvey herself here," broke in Mra 
 
 Melgrove; "she has had several yeare' experience 
 
 m the Humboldt Institute. How many, Mary?" 
 "Barely five," the young lady answered, smiling. 
 "And thus endeth objection number two," said 
 
 Father Sinclair. " Let us examine the third. This, 
 to my mind, is the really serious one. Where are we 
 going to get the books? It seems to me that we 
 might organize a few Collecting Committees whose 
 duties would be to look up old family libraries, n-'ao^ . 
 owners might have no particular use for the volumes 
 and be willing to give them as the nucleus for the 
 forming of a Catholic public library. I know per- 
 sonaUy several families in this city who have books 
 lying uselessly in closets and garrets, and who 
 would be glad, I am sure, to donate them to an 
 undertaking of this kind. All such books might not 
 be equaUy useful, but the lai^er number would, 
 no doubt, prove very acceptable, under the drcum^ 
 stances. Others we should, of couree, have to 
 purchase, and the money for that purpose would 
 have to be collected." 
 
 "Couldn't our friend across the avenue. Mr. 
 
 S2 
 
To^PoflWlrei" 
 
 Melling, be prevailed on to give us a few?" asked 
 Mis. Rayford; "and Mr. Homer Stewart? They 
 belong to us. They both givo gold medals yearly 
 to Royalview University; they helped to complete 
 the Observatoiy. Surely it would not be difficult 
 to induce them to donate fifty volumes each, if they 
 were approached in the right way." 
 
 "I never had occasion to come into close contact 
 
 with the genUemen you mention. Miss Rayford 
 
 They belong to St. Basil's." interposed the pastor.' 
 
 But my experience has taught me that there is 
 
 htUe to be expected from our wealthy men who 
 
 figure as nominal Catholics, unless you can hold out 
 
 to them some equivalent of honor or fame, which I 
 
 fear is not to be gained by this apparent opposition 
 
 to the moi-e popular schemes in behalf of our existing 
 
 and, m a sense, municipal libraries." 
 
 "Once more," insisted Miss Garvey, "I suggest 
 the name of Mr. Silas Maglundy as a candidate for 
 prospective honors in this line. He is not committed 
 I thmk, to any allegiance with the Elzevir people-^ 
 at least not yet." 
 
 "Who is this Silas Maglundy, Miss Garvey?" 
 asked Father Sinclair, looking up from his note- 
 paper. 
 
 "Why, have you not heard? He is one of our 
 recent airivals," answered the little lady. "He has 
 taken that large house, with the splendid grounds 
 
The Pastor ** Polls Wires'' 
 
 comer of Howarth and Buell. They say he is a 
 millionaire and a Catholic." 
 
 " A combination that one does not meet with very 
 frequently," returned the pastor. "Howarth and 
 Buell Streets are within the limits of St. Paul's. I 
 shall have to call on him and get him interested in 
 our works. That's all." 
 
 Father Sinclair stood up. 
 
 "Now, ladies, will you ponder over this matter? 
 But, of course, no cold water on it! We must do 
 something even as a matter of self-defence. Talk 
 it over as to what are the best means by which we 
 can succeed. If agreeable and convenient to you, 
 we might meet again this day week — anywhere you 
 decide upon, if you will kindly let me know the place 
 and time. Pray excuse me now. I have an appoint- 
 ment with His Grace at four o'clock." 
 
 A ievi minutes later the genial pastor had dis- 
 appeared down the avenue, crossed the square, and 
 stood at the door of the Archbishop's residence. 
 
it 
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 Three Ladies Drink Tea and Discus, the 
 Pros and G)ns 
 
 *'W^^^' yo" were right, after aU. Mary," 
 said Mrs. Melgrove, when she had re- 
 turned from the door. "Father Sinclair does not do 
 things by halves. To my mind this library, scheme 
 has many attractions. The site is an ideal one. I 
 know the room; it opens out on the street in a long 
 wide entry. There would be no great difficulty in 
 securing Ubrarians; we can easily get them. But 
 I confess I am not yet satisfied with his answer to 
 my third objection,-the difficulty of securimj the 
 books." 
 
 "Nor I." rejoined Miss Rayford. "Father Sin- 
 clair's suggestion is hardly practical. SoUdting 
 casl-of! books from Catholic families is not satis- 
 factory to me. We might get a few books-a few 
 Scotts. or Dickenses, or Newmans-these we should 
 have to keep in stock any way, and they would be 
 useful. But a circulating libraiy must be up to 
 date. The latest books must be purchased as soon 
 as they are issued; and we cannot surely depend on 
 
 So 
 
 
Three Ladies Drink Tea and 
 
 the casual gifts, as he suggests, for our hterature." 
 
 Meanwhile the hostess had been looking after the 
 samovar, and Miss Garvey was getting the cups 
 and saucers ready. 
 
 "Father Sinclair's plan," ventured Mrs. Mel- 
 grove, while pouring out the tea, '* is rather to have 
 famiUes donate a certain number. If each were to 
 contribute, say ten volumes, the shelves would be 
 quickly filled." 
 
 "But don't you see. Madam," urged Miss Ray- 
 ford, "that if we had no choice in the selection, we 
 should be getting the same authors over and over 
 again. Our people are not a reading class. The 
 few who indulge in that pastime have their wants 
 supplied by the Elzevir and the Humboldt. You 
 will find very few of the modem writers in private 
 libraries. Old ones satisfy our people in this respect. 
 Asking famihes to donate a dozen volumes each 
 might succeed in filling the new library shelves, if 
 things were seen as Father Sinclair sees them. But 
 think of the task before us! Besides, for other 
 reasons, I have misgivings as to the result of this 
 undertaking. When you go to ask our wealthy 
 Catholics in this city for a donation to some good 
 work, you are always met with the old song: 'We 
 have so many other things to keep up'" — 
 
 "Yes," broke in Miss Garvey, almost savagely, 
 "' and they spend more in one week in useless amuse- 
 
Disctiss the Pros and Cons 
 
 ments than they spend in a year in charities. I 
 Know It, for I live among them." 
 
 "Is not that a Httle exaggerated.?" asked the 
 hostess, timidly, as she brought the tea-tray to the 
 taole. 
 
 "Exaggerated! At TannhJauser, last week, the 
 Fells family, and the Newells, and the Molveys 
 occupied boxes that mast have cost them at le^t 
 thirty doUars apiece. And that opera cloak worn 
 by Mrs. Helerand is valued at something like a 
 thousand dollars, I hear." 
 
 " Well. Mary, here is a chance for you to do some- 
 hostess ^^ ""^^ '* 'slum-work'?" suggested the 
 
 T i"^*"^*,'!*^^ "°^ ^ ^^"^^^"'y ^i» go into it. 
 
 I kiiow Mrs. t. ...and personally, and I am a.- 
 suredly going to call on her. It is about time that 
 these people were brought to their senses. They 
 are doing almost nothing for the Church or her 
 works; and when they do ever so little, we are sure 
 to learn all about it in the Times next day. Isn't 
 it wearying.'" 
 
 This short speech was uttered by the Httle lady 
 with an accent which brought conviction to her 
 hearers; but which did not prevent her meanwhile 
 from emptying her teacup. 
 
 The hostess looked at her. 
 
 'Miss Gar^-ey. please don't out on that fierce 
 
 91 
 
 
 m 
 
 t< ■ 
 
Three Ladies Drink Tea and 
 
 look when you visit the Helerands. You will surely 
 spoil your chances." 
 " Leave them to me, " repUed the little lady. 
 And they both gathered up the cups and saucere 
 and put them on the table in the comer. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Rayford, who had been reflecting 
 for some time, spoke up. 
 
 "Here is a scheme that I suggest. Could we not 
 invite a number of our prominent ladies— fifteen or 
 twenty— to meet this day week and get up some sort 
 of entertainment, which would bring in a few 
 dollars for books and other things? You know we 
 must have shelves and glass doors made. There 
 are none in the Young Men's Clubroom." 
 
 "Why could not Appleby, the undertaker, give 
 these things for his share ? He belongs to the parish, 
 doesn't he?" asked Miss Garvey, energetically. 
 '' Will you see him about it ?" enquired the hostess. 
 " Certainly I will, and he shall have to give them. 
 He ha^ made considerably more than the value of 
 a few book-shelves out of us in coffins and trappings 
 in the past twenty years." Miss Garvey was evi- 
 dently taking Father Sinclair's Ubrary scheme to 
 heart, for she added: "I think Miss Rayford's sug- 
 gestion a good one. While you were in Europe, 
 Mrs. Melgrove, the Women's Art Club held a 
 'Renaissance Tea,' and in three evenings they paid 
 off the debt of their clubrooms." 
 
 38 
 
I>isctiss the Pros and Cons 
 
 "Indeed!" interrupted the hostess. "Thai ex- 
 plains a dainty invitation to their preliminary 
 meeting I found waiting me when I returned. " 
 
 ;• These ladies do everything daintily." continued 
 Miss Garvey. ''Their Tea was a perfect success 
 Ihey organized canvassing committees thoroughly 
 before they set to work. They then called on the 
 differtnt families for the loan of their art treasures 
 v>no committee solicited paintings and etchings; 
 another, plate; another, ivory and bronze curios- 
 another, old tapestry; another, rare books and 
 manuscripts. Monument HaU was partitioned off 
 mto sections, each eceiving a suggestive name. 
 You had the RaflPaele section; the Sevres section- 
 the Gobehn section, and so on. Tea was served free' 
 to all. A small admission was taken at the various 
 sections; and it would surprise you to see how 
 quickly the dollars rolled into the treasury In 
 three short evenings the ladies of the Art Club took 
 m nearly a thousand dollars; the treasures, which 
 had been strictly cheeked, were then sent back to 
 their owners, with a note of thanks, and eveiybody 
 was happy." '' 
 
 "A novel idea, certainly," said the hostess; "but 
 It would be impossible to get up a benefit for our 
 libraiy scheme on the same lines." 
 ^ J Undoubtedly; I merely suggest something sim- 
 
 39 
 
Three Ladies Drink Tea and 
 
 "Why not consider the scheme of nations and 
 national costumes?" asked Mrs. Melgrove. "One 
 of the prettiest sights I saw, during my summer 
 abroad, was at Buda-Pe>th. The Hungarian peas- 
 ants and nobles hold some sort of celebration, and 
 dressed in the different costumes which had been in 
 vogue in their country for a thousand years back. 
 The sight was very picturesque and drew crowds 
 of people." 
 
 "That is a charming idea," said Miss Rayford; 
 " but such schemes require a lot of preliminary study. 
 And besides, look at the expense!" 
 
 " I should not think of doing tilings so elaborately 
 as the Hungarians did," Mrs. Melgrove hastened 
 to say. " But would it not be possible to dress our 
 young ladies in costumes of a dozen different nations 
 for the entertainment? While people sipped their 
 tea, they could be kept busy guessing what countries 
 were represented. This would at least have the merit 
 of novelty in Laurenboro, and it might prove interest- 
 ing to many. However, it would be better perhaps 
 first of all to carry out your suggestion. Miss Rayford, 
 and invite a few ladies to talk the matter over." 
 "WTiere could we meet?" asked Miss Garvey. 
 "Why not here?" answered the hostess. "We 
 can easily open the folding-doors of the l&rge parior 
 downstairs; and I think I can furnish chairs for 
 fifteen or twenty." 
 
 40 
 
Discuss the Pros and Gmis 
 
 It was agreed to meet at the Melgroves' the follow- 
 ing Wednesday, and to notify Father Sinclair. The 
 hostess saw ,ier two friends to the door, and bade 
 them good night; for it had grown dusk. 
 
 A few flakes of snow, harbingers of the coming 
 winter, were falling, and a cold night-wind made 
 the ladies quicken their steps down the avenue. 
 
 "I did not know that Silas Maglundy belonged 
 to our Church, Miss Garvey," said her companion, 
 when they were standing to let a street car pass. 
 
 " Neither did I till I was told so. I never see him 
 at church. He is, I suppose, hke many others, a 
 merely nominal CathoHc." 
 
 " Well if he belongs to St. Paul's, he must be made 
 to help us before he gets further away. Father 
 Sinclair will have to get after him." 
 
 "Father Sinclair to my mind is altogether too 
 shy," said Miss Garvey. "If he could execute as 
 well as he can plan, he would do marvellous work 
 in Laurenboro." 
 
 " But he has us to execute his plans, Miss Garvey. 
 Here comes the car." 
 
 "And we'll just do it, then. That library scheme 
 grows on me the more I think of it. I can see all 
 the good it will effect; and I am going to do all I 
 can for it. This is my blue car. So good night." 
 
 And the ladies sped off in different directions. 
 
 41 
 
[ I 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 The Pastor Takes the PubKc into Hu Confidence 
 
 rpHE la^t leaf had dropped from the maples on 
 Ashbume Avenue, leaving nothing but the 
 tiny branches and the parting season's birds' nests. 
 A heavy fall of snow had meanwhile thrown a mantle 
 ^whiteness over the whole city of Laurenboro. 
 The mne o clock Mass the following Sunday morning 
 was crowded as usual. The laige attendance w^ 
 chiefly due to the fact that the function was over in 
 forty minutes. Or. as Mrs. MagiUicuddy explained 
 It. because people wanted to show how stingy they 
 could be with Almighty God." 
 
 After the Gospel. Father Sinclair made the 
 announcements fur the week. One of them read: 
 
 tZTii,:Ly'^^''" ''^ '°™*«- »'• Catholic 
 
 "You may not be aware, brethren." continued 
 the pastor, commenting on the announcement, "of 
 the need of a CathoUc library in this city. We have 
 several pubUc libraries, it is tnie, but there is not 
 
 45 
 
The Pastor Takes the Public 
 
 one of them that does not contain works insulting 
 to our holy religion, calumniating her clei^, falsi- 
 fying her traditions and her history. Are our children 
 and young people to be allowed to read such books 
 because they are free? We must do nothing to 
 inmimize respect for authority or religious influence:! 
 among us. With us. religion is dearer than life. 
 With us. the soul is more precious than the body. 
 Now. see the precautions that are taken to keep 
 contagion out of our homes. The sick are set apart 
 and quarantined; no one is allowed to go near them 
 lest any become infected. And what are aU these 
 pr^autions tai . for? To preserve these poor 
 bodies of ours ; I. Leep them in life a few years longer. 
 What disease is to the body, error and immoral 
 principles are to the soul. Are we going to allow our 
 children, and those who are near and dear to us 
 to read books that in..til the poi.son of irreligion and 
 immorality into their souls? Public Hbraries that 
 exercise no supervision over the works on their 
 shelves are disseminators of immoral contagion, and 
 are a menace to a community. We are bound in 
 conscience to prevent their books from getting an 
 entry into our homes. We lock our doors against 
 thieves who would rob us of our treasures, and shall 
 we allow books to come into our homes that would 
 rob us of our souls ? 
 
 "Seeing that our people must read, I have re- 
 
 44 
 
Into His Confidence 
 
 solved to establish a library of our own in this parish, 
 where sound mental foo<i will l,e free to all; whither 
 parents may let their children go safely; where there 
 will be no danger of moral contamination; where we 
 may enjoy intellectual pleasure without running the 
 risk of undernuning our faith. As you are going 
 to be the gainers by this work. I appeal to your 
 generosity. I h«ve the approbation of the Arch- 
 bishop; and His Grace asks me to say in his name 
 that he will be gratified to learn that the Ubrary is a 
 success." 
 
 The people moved slowly out of church, after 
 Mass, and went off in different directions to their 
 homes. 
 
 "What's that new .scheme the Father was talking 
 to us this momin' about?" asked Mrs. O'Connell, 
 during her breakfast. 
 
 ^^ " He's gettin' up a libr'ry," answered her husband; 
 "and, faith, they want somethin' badly to take up 
 their evenin's, in place of galavantin' 'round the 
 streets. Just look. Hannah, at that dirty sheet"— 
 the Sunday Trihune was lying on the table— "who 
 fetched that into this house?" 
 
 "Kitty brought it in," said the mother. 
 
 "Well, there it goes into the &k"— suiting his 
 action to his words-" and tell Kitty, if she wants 
 somethin' to read " 
 
 Kitty heard her name and walked in. 
 
 45 
 
The Paator Taktu the Public 
 
 •* Did you bring that paper into this house. Kitty ? " 
 "Yes. daddy; I got it at the comer after iMass. 
 for the pictures and the stories." 
 
 " Now. Kitty, let me never see that vile paper here 
 again." 
 
 "But. daddy, what are we going to do? You 
 don't want to let me go to the park with the other 
 girls; and you don't want to let me go to the Elzevir. 
 And you don't know how long the Sunday is. with 
 nothing to read and nowhere to go." 
 
 "My giri, you'll have somethin' to read after 
 this. Father Sinclair is goin' to .start a Ubr'iy; and 
 I want you to jine it. D'ye hear ? " 
 
 " Yes. daddy, I hear. Of course, I'll join it. I am 
 dying to read nice books, and so are the other girls." 
 O'Connell was an industrious workingman, with 
 a few hundreds to his credit in thf District Sa%ings 
 Bank. In his young days he had striven unsuccess- 
 fully for a teacher's diploma, and he still read a 
 great deal in his spare moments. Although liis 
 grammar and his accent were not without blemish, 
 he had wisdom enough to know the influence of 
 bad books and newspapers on the impressionable 
 years of youth. 
 
 "Kitty, dear, here's a letter," said her father, 
 
 after dinner; "take it down to Father Sinclair. 
 
 You'll find him in the sacristy after Vespers." 
 
 The pastor was taking off his stole and surplice 
 
 46 
 
Into His Confidence 
 
 that afternoon when a Umid UtUe girl walked up 
 and handed him a letter. 
 "Sick-call. Kitty?" 
 
 "No, Father; only a letter from daddy." 
 Father Sinclair opened it and read:— 
 
 Dear Father. I heard your sermon on bad nwlJn' 
 this momin' and I am heart and soul with your reverence. 
 I se the enclose*] twenty-five dollars for the new hbiy; 
 and may God prosper your undertaking. It is badly 
 needed :n our town. 
 
 TkhEN< E OTONNELU 
 
 r. h.— I have some books that have been in a trunk 
 for twenty years past. If you want them for the new 
 libiy, you are welcome to them. 
 
 "Tell your father, Kitty, that I thank him for his 
 gift; and al.so tell him that I shall be glad to get 
 the books." 
 
 O'Connell's gift of money and his offer of books 
 were in Father Sinclair's mind an echo of the 
 popular sentiment; and with the enthusiasm of one 
 who feels that he is on the vei^e of success in some 
 great enterprise, he mentioned his Hbrary project to 
 half-a-dozen parishioners that day and asked them 
 to send to the glebe-house any volumes they might 
 no longer need. 
 
 In the half darkness that night, on his way down 
 to supper, he stumbled over a heap in the haUway. 
 
 " What are all the.se bundles, Nanny ? " he asked the 
 housekeeper, a relic of the days of the ship-fever, who 
 had faithfuUy served three of his predecessors in St. 
 
 47 
 
 nl 
 
The Pastor Takes the Public 
 
 Paul's, and who had reached an age when shrewd- 
 ness is at a premium and years are no longer counted. 
 
 "I dunno, your Reverence," said Nanny; "they 
 do be ringin' the bell all the afthernoon, and lavin' 
 one parcel afther another. They all say they do be 
 books for your schame, your Reverence." 
 
 But the opening up of the bundles disillusionized 
 Father Sinclair, and proved that, notwithstanding 
 his other accomplishments, he had not yet learned 
 how to stock a public library. There were dozens 
 and dozens of volumes in every stage of decomposi- 
 tion; some with pages, even whole chapters, missing; 
 others, without their covers; nine-tenths of the 
 novels were of the lurid order. 
 
 " They will do for kindling the fire," mused the 
 pastor. And he frankly admitted there and then 
 that he had not solved Mrs. Melgrove's third ob- 
 jection : " Where are the books to come from ?" 
 
 " Who left the bundles, Nanny ? " he asked. 
 
 "O, I dunno, your Reverence. Mrs. Breen's 
 two little girls fetched a parcel, and the widow 
 Gallagher came herself, and Katy O'Connell, and 
 Molly Miller, and Susie Bemardi, and — I dunno — 
 a dozen came." 
 
 There were just a dozen bundles. 
 
 "Sure I didn't keep no count of who came and 
 
 who didn't, your Reverence. The Widow Gallagher 
 
 says why don't you go afther the rich men for your 
 
 48 
 
Into His Gmfldence 
 
 t 
 
 scfaame. There's Mr, Maglundy, says she, sure 
 isn't he goin' to put a drinkin' fountain for horses 
 fominst her house in Blannen Square. And what 
 do they be wantin' with a fountain there for, I'd 
 like to know ?" 
 
 "Take them to the kitchen, Nanny, and store 
 them away. I will tell you later what they are for." 
 
 This was a precautionary measure. It would 
 never do to let it get out among the donors that the 
 gifts of books were of no earthly use except to light 
 fires with. One remark of Nanny's friend, the 
 Widow Gallagher, made Father Sinclair reflect— 
 the fountain in Blenheim Square and its donor. 
 
 "Maglundy is turning up pretty often lately,** 
 thought the pastor, a e went up to his study to con- 
 sult the Directory. "Who is he and where is he 
 from ?" 
 
 The music of that euphonious name had never 
 sounded in his ears until Miss Garvey uttered it 
 at the Melgroves'. The Directory had no such 
 word in its thousand pages, which proved that the 
 owner thereof was a new arrival in Laurenboro. 
 Father Sinclair had read in some review or other 
 an article on "Men revealed in their Names," and 
 he set earnestly to work to paint a mind-picture of 
 the man who bore the name Maglundy. He was 
 elderly; he was a millionaire; he was a Catholic — 
 all this Miss Garvey had said. But was he tall or 
 
 49 
 
 ;m 
 
The Pastor's Confidence 
 
 short? stout or thin? was he gruflF or aflfable? 
 generous or miserly? vain or retiring? Here was 
 food for a half-hour's speculation in the ohilosophic 
 mind of Father Sinclair. 
 
 But the picture was not even sketched. The 
 name Maglundy told him nothing. The fact that 
 the owner was about to give a drinking-fountain 
 to the denizens of Blenheim Square offered no clue 
 to his character. So many selfish motives— vanity 
 not excluded— may becloud public benefactions that 
 the pastor refused to commit himself to a verdict on 
 the character of one reputed to be a CathoUc mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 "However," he mused, as he put the Directory 
 aside and took up his Breviary for Matins and Lauds, 
 "if Silas Maglundy belongs to us, we shaU soon 
 know more about him." 
 
. 
 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Lay Forces Are Called into Action 
 
 jyjRS. Melgrove's large drawing-room was ablaze 
 with light the following Wednesday after- 
 noon The folding-dooK had been thrown open, 
 reveahng a perfect treasure-house of art. Such 
 taste and such deUcacy of selection ! In h -r travels 
 through Europe the hostess had picked up many an 
 artistic gem in the shape of a miniature, or a cameo 
 or a bronze object of one pattern or another. An' 
 exquisite reproduction of the Salpion rested on the 
 floor. A Sistine Madonna, holding her sorrowfuUy 
 sweet Child, hung from one of the walls where the 
 hght-effects were favorable; on another, various 
 pictures of child-life, mostly the work of German 
 artists, and etchings signed by the authors them- 
 selves A Leo XIII by Chartran stood on an easel 
 near the folding-doors. The same taste displayed 
 Itself m the selection of her books-«ll CathoUc and 
 standard. The Catholic tone was felt the moment 
 the Melgrove threshold was crossed. 
 
 The ladies began to straggle in by twos and threes. 
 Miss Garvey had reached the house a few minutes 
 ahead; she was helping the hostess to unwrap their 
 
 4 
 
Lay Forces Are 
 
 furs and to make them feel at home. Already over 
 twenty-five had come when three o'clock rang, and 
 Father Sinclair entered, recognizing well-known faces 
 seated here and there in the large room. 
 
 The pastor of St. Paul's was one of those priests 
 who had cultivated the possibilities of lay coopera- 
 tion in his parish. Himself naturally diffident and 
 retiring, he had, by means of the zealous helpers 
 whom he saw before him at the Melgrovej', done 
 much in his small distiict that would otherwise have 
 been left undone. Among these ladies were his 
 League Promoters' Visiting Committee, who went 
 to see the poor twice a week during the cold season; 
 his Hospital Committee, who devoted their Wednes- 
 days and Saturdays to the sick in the city hospitals ; 
 his Vigilance Committee, to keep an eye on Uni- 
 versity students, many of whom were strangers in 
 Laurenboro and disposed to run wild after lecture 
 hours; his First Communion Committee among the 
 poorer children in Gottingen Ward. The new Ubrary 
 scheme, he felt confident, would eventually succeed. 
 
 A chair had been proArided for him, and a small 
 table; and when he sat down, it was in presence of a 
 band of workers who, if they so desired, could make 
 his new library scheme, or any other scheme, a 
 perfect success — and he knew it, 
 
 "Ladies," he began, "I had occasion at the 
 Masses last Sunday to make you acquainted with a 
 
Called into Action 
 
 plan suggested to meet a very pressing need. You 
 are aware of the efforts that are now being made by 
 our friends on Fessenden Avenue to foist a lot of 
 denominational literature on us. Besides, I had 
 the privilege of looking over the Elzevir catalogue 
 a few days ago, and was astounded at the number 
 of books there that are on the Index— books that 
 Cathohes are forbidden to read— Balzac, George 
 Sand, the two Dumas " 
 
 A rustling of silk was heard in a comer of the room. 
 
 "Pardon me. Father. Is Dumas on the Index ?" 
 asked a young lady graduate of a fashionable 
 seminary. 
 
 " Yes, madam, the works of both father and son." 
 " Well, really-." the young lady was going to tell 
 that she had read them all, but she simply said, "I 
 did not know they were." 
 
 ^^ "It is a serious matter," continued the pastor, 
 "for a Cathohc to read works that are thus pro- 
 scribed. One's conscience becomes involved. I 
 shall have occasion later, I trust, to explain the 
 seemingly severe rules that govern the decisions of 
 the Roman Congregation of the Index; meanwhile 
 you wiU understand, ladies, why I am so anxious 
 that something should be done this winter." 
 
 This speech, short as it was, had a suiprising 
 effect on some of the ladies present, and told them 
 a few things they evidenUy did not know. 
 
 53 
 
Lay Forces Are 
 
 " Now, if we desire to succeed in doing anything," 
 he went on, "we must organize. We shall need 
 o£5cers and committees. If some one will propose 
 a name for president " 
 
 Quick as a flash, Miss Garvey stood up and 
 proposed the name of Mrs. Horace Melgrove. 
 
 " I second the motion, and I have much pleasure 
 in doing so," said Miss Ra}'ford. "Mrs. Melgrove 
 has taken deep interest fn our works of charity for 
 years, and has had expe Lnce in library matters. 
 This library is also a work that I know appeals to 
 her; and for this reason I second Miss Garvey *s 
 motion." 
 
 " It has been moved and seconded," added Father 
 Sinclair, "that Mrs. Horace Melgrove be made 
 president of our library organization. Is there any 
 other candidate?" 
 
 There was no other candidate; only absolute si- 
 lence. 
 
 "Seeing that there is no opposition, I declare 
 Mrs. Melgrove elected by acclamation " 
 
 But the pastor got no further. A general clapping 
 of hands bespoke the popularity of the new president. 
 
 "Mrs. Melgrove will take the chair presently," 
 
 continued Father Sinclair. "She will explain the 
 
 object of our meeting more fully than I have done. 
 
 She will help you to select your other officers and 
 
 name the heads of the committees. I feel that the 
 
 M 
 
Called Into Action 
 
 library interests are advancing rapidly, and I know 
 that whatever you decide to do this afternoon wiU 
 be for the best." 
 
 A murmur of satisfaction swept through the room. 
 
 "Now, ladies, if you will excuse me, I shall leave 
 you to your deliberations "—the priest stood up— 
 "if there is anything that I can do to help you out, 
 you have only to drop a note, or call at the glebe- 
 house." 
 
 And while the aflFable pastor was being conducted 
 to the door by the hostess, a buzz of conversation 
 began to grow in the room. It was a score of ladies 
 talking all at once, and about everything but the 
 library. 
 
 A moment later Mrs. Melgrove took her place in 
 the president's chair. 
 
 "Before we proceed to the election of the other 
 officers," she began, in a business-like way, "I 
 desire to thank you, ladies, for the mark of con- 
 fidence you have placed in me. I wiU do all in my 
 power to retain it. I feel that the work we are about 
 to engage in, and which Father Sinclair has evi- 
 dently much at heart, is one worthy of our very best 
 eflForts. As our pastor has already told you, there is 
 sad need of a wholesome public library in our city. 
 Children in our parish are all readers nowadays, 
 and I feel it is our duty to provide them with sound 
 
 reading-matter. Father Sinclair furnishes the hall. 
 
 65 
 
r 
 
 Lay Forces Arc 
 
 The librarians are easy to get. The books are the 
 next thing tc thinic about. 
 
 "Three of us. Miss Garvey, Miss Rayford, and 
 myself, have had several informal talks over the 
 affair, and we have thought that some money- 
 making scheme, in the course of a week or so, 
 should bring in a few hundred dollars, which could 
 be invested in b oks. However, before we proceed 
 further, we shall need a secretary, and two or three 
 counsellors." 
 
 The work of election was performed in true 
 parliamentary fashion, the secretaryship naturally 
 falling to Miss Garvey, she being known as a most 
 energetic and intelligent worker in such matters. 
 
 It was now in order to discuss ways and means. 
 Several ladies timidly suggested a house-to-house 
 collection of books— Father Sinclair's idea— but 
 they were left without a prop by the inexorable 
 logic of Miss Rayford. The majority seemed to 
 think that an entertainment and fancy sale would be 
 the proper thing to have. 
 
 "Then, ladies, let us have the entertainment," 
 said the president. " What name shall we give it ?" 
 
 "I would suggest Autumn Festival," said one 
 lady. 
 
 " Or Afternoon Tea," asserted another. 
 "Or Five O'Clock Social," ventured a third. 
 "Three excellent suggestions," rejoined the presi- 
 
Called into Action 
 
 dent. " Let us begin with the first. All in favor of 
 Autumn Festival as a name for our entertainment 
 and fancy sale, will please raise their hands." 
 
 A fierce gust of wind had sprung up at that 
 moment, and the branches tapping against the 
 window panes of the large room evidently weighed 
 in favor of that name. A cloud of hands, begloved 
 but dainty, went into the air, and decided that an 
 Autumn Festival was the function that should be 
 given in the interests of the new libraiy. 
 
 As those present were quite famiUar with the 
 details of fancy sales, and as the evening was ad- 
 vancing, the rest of the business was quickly dis- 
 posed of. One lady offered to look after the candies ; 
 another would take charge of the flower-tables; 
 another of the ice-cream; another of the tea and 
 coffee. Each would choose her own assistants. 
 Monument Hall would be secured for that day 
 fortnight. The Committee on Printing would get 
 the tickets into circulation as soon as possi jle. 
 
 "I cannot impress on you, ladies," said the 
 
 president, while the furs were being dom ed, " how 
 
 important it is to dispose of as many tickets as 
 
 possible. Our success will depend on that. Get 
 
 your friends interested; talk about the Festival, 
 
 and we shall be able to give Father Sinclair a good 
 
 round sum for the library." 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when the meeting broke 
 
 «7 
 
Lay Forceg Are 
 
 up. The Autumn Festival was started. The en- 
 thusiasm that reigned among the ladies predicted 
 success. 
 
 The following evening, an anonymous article 
 appeared in the local Timet on "Reading." The 
 day after, one on the "Importance of Books on the 
 Formation of Character." The day after that 
 again, one on "Controlling the Reading of the 
 Young." Every evening, the libraiy question was 
 being discussed, even on the streets, till it threatened 
 for the moment to exclude even the coming civic 
 elections. 
 
 " How is the Autumn Festival getting on, Eleanor ? " 
 asked Melgrove of his wife, a few evenings later, 
 when he reached his home. "They are doing 
 nothing down-town these days but talking library. 
 Here is a fourth article on tiiC 'Need of Wholesome 
 Public Libraries.' I'll wager it is Father Sinclair 
 preparing public opinion for his scheme. He i- 
 certainly doing his share, and doing it well. The < 
 is no one on the Times, except Burton, who can 
 write like that. Listen, Nell. It reads like New- 
 mas." 
 
 And Melgrove began to read out Father Sinclair's 
 clear-cut pure English sentt ices, logical and forceful. 
 
 "Why, NeU, that prose would bring conviction 
 to the most gra *.e-skulled native of Lauienboro. 
 Are the tickets printed yet ?" asked Melgrove. 
 
 68 
 
Called into Action 
 
 •'Printed and out," quietly answered his wife. 
 - "How many do you want me to take?" 
 
 "At least a dozen, dear." 
 
 "Ahem, Sony I asked. But that Father Sinclaii 
 IS a pusher. Here is aU Uurenboro reading his 
 ppose to-night, persuaded that something will happen 
 if St. Paul's doesn't get a new library. The Elaevir 
 people must feel pleased just now." 
 
 The dinner-beU— the tocsin of the hungry soul- 
 rang at that moment, and Melgrove's reflections 
 suddenly took another direction. What logic wiU 
 resist the sound of a dinner-bell ? 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 Human Nature Bobt Up in a Few Ways 
 
 IT was a long, weary day the eve of that First 
 -■• Friday in November. Father Sinchur had been 
 steadily at work in the confessional since three 
 o'clock. It was now seven, and the stream of 
 penitents showed no signs of diminishing. Fatigue 
 had almost overtaken the pastor as fae steppt-d out 
 and asked the people near his box to be patient for 
 a short quarterK>f-an-hour, while he took his cup 
 of coffee. 
 
 Four letters were awaiting him on the tabic; but 
 he left them unopened. It was near eleven when 
 the last form was seen emerging from the confes- 
 sional. While the sexton started to put the liphts 
 out, the tired pastor walked slowly up the aisle lie 
 knelt down before the main altar and offered the 
 fatigue of the day to the Sacred Heart whose feast 
 he would celebrate on the morrow. 
 
 Before retiring for the night he glanced at th. 
 letters and opened them one by one. 
 
 "Dear Father.- Couldn't the sexton let me have the 
 candelabra and a few rose-lamps— a couple of dozen — 
 to decorate my flower table ? It would look bare with- 
 out than. And I am positively afraid to ask him. ' ' 
 
 61 
 
Human Nature Bobs up 
 
 I 
 
 I I 
 
 n 
 
 "Dear Father Sinclair. Would you have the kindness 
 to ask the Mayor for the palms from the Civic Nursery. 
 to put in the Hall on the night of the Festival ? I sent 
 some one to see him yesterday, but he said he could not 
 give them without consulting the aldermen. ' ' 
 
 "Reverend and Dear Father: Would you let Nanny 
 come to help wash things on the night of the Library 
 Festival ? Sevo-al are going to ask for her, but I think 
 lam first." 
 
 "Dear Reverend Father: Would you have the veiy 
 great kindness to a.sk the Brazilian Coffee Company to 
 donate a few pounds of coffee to the FesUval for your 
 Library?" 
 
 The pastor put the letters on the table, sat do 
 and uttered one long sigh. 
 
 " Dear Lord ! " he exclaimed, " Non recuso laborem. 
 I am willing to work for Thy gloiy. I am giving 
 sixteen or eighteen hours a day to show that I mean 
 what I say. But must I now start a-begging for 
 palms and coflFee ? One thing is certain, however, 
 —Nanny shall stay at home. As for the rose- 
 lamps, they may fight it out with the sexton." 
 
 He was too tired to undress even,— he had to 
 carry Holy Communion to seven sick persons in 
 the eariy morning. After a brief fervent prayer, 
 he threw himself on his bed and was soon fast 
 asleep. 
 
 The First Friday was radiant. The morning sun 
 sent fresh streams of chastened light through the 
 long, lancet windows, and lighted up the little 
 
 68 
 
In a Few Ways 
 
 Gothic church with a softness and grace almost 
 heavenly. The King on His throne, surrounded 
 with flowers and candles, looked down lovingly on 
 the lovers of Eis Sacred Heart. During the Mass 
 sweet music raised the souls of the worshippers 
 above the earth; and when the hundreds who 
 received Holy Communion lingered after the service 
 to commune longer with our Lord, Father Sinclair 
 felt that his zeal had not been sterile. " I will give 
 to priests who spread this devotion the gift of touch- 
 ing the hardest hearts." There were not so many 
 hard hearts to touch in St. Paul's Parish; the 
 League of i ,e Sacred Heart had done its work; and 
 the tears of tenderness nnd spiritual joy that flowed 
 that morning in St. Paul's plainly told the pastor 
 that the Saviour's promise to Margaret Mary had 
 been fulfilled to the letter. And as a consequence, 
 Father Sinclair was happy. 
 
 But there was a weight on him nevertheless. 
 How was he to go a-begging for coffee and palms ? 
 What were the committees named for ? He had on 
 a former occasion put his foot down and told an 
 oflScious vice-president that soliciting for an enter- 
 tainment did not come within the scope of his 
 duties. The lesson had undoubtedly been forgotten; 
 he should have to repeat it. For the moment he 
 would compromise; he would buy the coffee and 
 
 send it to the Hall. For tliis ouce, also, although 
 
 63 
 
Human Natore Bobs up 
 
 his shy nature rebelled against such work, he would 
 call on Wesley Bruce and ask him for the palms 
 tha had already been refused. Father Sinclair 
 could plan; he could suggest; he could urge; but he 
 felt an mmost aversion to going a-begging such 
 petty favors. 
 
 At ten o'clock he telephoned to the Brazilian 
 Coffee House to send five pounds of its best coffee 
 to Monument Hall before five o'clock on Wednesday 
 and charge it to his account. He then took his hat 
 and cane and walked down to the post-office 
 
 The pastor of St. Paul's was a welcome figure 
 down-town. His spirit of progress, his inte Jt in 
 cmc celebrations, his zeal for promoting public 
 works, were well known. It was he who suggested 
 the artistic arches over the Brono bridge; it was he 
 who headed the subscription list for the massive 
 electnc columns in Royalview Park; it was mainly 
 he who got the City Band to play twice a week in 
 the Eagle Rotunda; it was through his efforts that 
 Corots « Twilight " was now in the Art Gallery- it 
 was he who had been working almost alone for two 
 years to have a monument raised to the little hero 
 who lost his life while trying to save another in the 
 Brono: m a word. Father Sinclair was the mouth- 
 piece of the "sixth sense" in Laurenboro; for he 
 wa^ essentially artistic and a lover of the beautiful 
 But he was preoccupied on his way down-town 
 
 64 
 

 In a Few Ways 
 
 that morning. And still the palms were public 
 property. ... The new library would be a benefit 
 to the public It would help to make good citi- 
 zens. He ran Ughtly up the steps of the post-ofBce, 
 and was pushing the massive doors inward when 
 he stood face to face with the Mayor. 
 " Good morning, Father." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Bruce." He was about to 
 pass on, when he suddenly turned on his heel. " By 
 the way, xMr. Mayor, could we have the Civic Nur- 
 sery palms for an evening this week ? We are getting 
 
 up a little " ^ 
 
 " Certainly, Father. Come over to my oflSce." 
 And that was all there was about it. Father 
 Sinclair came away with an order to the civic gar- 
 dener to let him have the palms "as long as he 
 wanted them"; besides, they were to be deUvered 
 at the hall for him. 
 The agony was over. But he asked himself: 
 "Is it pride, this shyness, or is it a too deUcate 
 sense of honor, that makes my hfe so miserable ?" 
 
 He could solemnly aver that it was not pride. 
 He simply could not do such things. Henceforth he 
 should see to it that his people did not ask him. 
 
 A caU later in the day at the glebe-house from 
 Mrs. Melgrove and the secretary told him that the 
 tickets were going fast; two hundred dollars had 
 already been handed in. 
 
 6f 
 
Httman Nature Bobs up 
 
 ^^ "This is a splendid showing," said the pastor, 
 "and there are still three days." 
 
 "But several visits we made, Father, were veiy 
 discouraging," ventured Mrs. Melgrove. 
 
 "And a few snubs into the bai^aia," added Miss 
 Gar vey. " The Newells told us plainly they wanted 
 no new hbraiy. They were satisfied with the Elzevir; 
 and they would not contribute a cent." 
 
 "And what did you say?" asked the pastor, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 "What could we say? We simply turned on our 
 heels and walked awry," replied the Uttle lady. 
 
 "You did the proper thing, ladies. A little 
 humiUation, was it not? And witUn the Octave 
 of the First Friday, too?" 
 
 How weU Father Sinclair could preach to others! 
 Had he been in their places, and been refused, he 
 would have shrunk into his veiy humble substance. 
 
 "Even though the Newells do not come to the 
 festival," he continued, "they might have taken a 
 few tickets-mightn't they?— to help a good thing 
 along." 
 
 "Certainly they might. Miss Rayford called on 
 them," added Miss Garvey, "for a contribution of 
 flowers, and they positively refused her." 
 
 "Never mind. We have something better. We 
 have the palms from the City Gardens," said the 
 Father, bravely. "Monument HaU on festival 
 
In a Few Ways 
 
 night will look like a corner cut out of Honolulu." 
 "And we called at Mr. Maglundy's," added the 
 little secretary. 
 
 "Pray tell me how you were received there?" 
 "Very well. He took one ticket. He said he was 
 a chronic bachelor, and should not need more than 
 one. He is very anxious to meet you, Father. He 
 wants your opinion on a fountain he is going to 
 build somewhere in town. He also wants an in- 
 scription in Latin or Greek." And the ladies 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 " We shall have to accommodate him, then. This 
 may be the thin edge of the wedge to Mr. Maglundy's 
 heart," retorted the pastor, slowly. An excellent 
 occasion of meeting this stranger had thus presented 
 itself, and Father Sinclair was gratified at the turn 
 events were taking. 
 
 "But the pleasantest visit of all was to the Cay- 
 sons," continued Mi-s. Melgrove. "Just fancy! 
 They had already taken twelve tickets for the 
 Festival before we reached there. And when Miss 
 Garvey saw the twelve spread out before her, she 
 had not the courage to ask them " 
 
 "What?" interrupted the pastor, smiling; "to 
 buy more tickets ? Isn't there a stronger term than 
 •courage' required to ask a family to buy more than 
 twelve tickets?" 
 
 "No matter, Mrs. Cayson was splendid. Sbe 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
Human Nattire Bobs up 
 
 asked us if we had no tickets to sell, and we both 
 burst out laughing. She took four more, and she 
 promised a contribution to each of the tables. Her 
 two daughters, Clare and Mary, are busy since 
 yesterday making candy. And Clare is going to help 
 us to sell." 
 
 "God bless them," said Father Sinclair; "isn't 
 it consoling to meet such people in this chilly, sel- 
 fish world ? But let us go back to Maglundy. Did 
 he name any time at which he wanted to see me ? " 
 
 "He said he would call on you at the glebe-house, 
 or he would be in any day after three. If you will 
 only telephone, he will send his carriage." 
 
 "I shall surprise the old gentleman some day 
 before the Festival. I should like to see him there. 
 So would the ladies, wouldn't they?" 
 
 " By all means. Try to get him, Father. We shall 
 take care of him, once he reaches the Hall," said 
 Miss Garvey. " But he did not impress me as one 
 who would open his purse, even for a library. He 
 might have taken more than one ticket." 
 
 "Seeing that he has money to throw away on 
 living fountains and " answered Mrs. Melgrove. 
 
 " And on dead languages," interjected the pastor, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 The two ladies departed, only to admit two more, 
 — ^Miss Pickwell and a friend. 
 
 "I ftm so glad you got my note, Father. The 
 
In a Few Ways 
 
 I really could not ask that 
 
 coffee has arrived, 
 horrid manager." 
 
 Miss PickweU Hved in an elegant mansion on 
 Nob Hill, and Father Sinclair was just thinking 
 that she might have bought the coffee herself. But 
 the lady kept right on: 
 
 •' Last year he was so ugly about a small affair. 
 Imagine he hinted that I should buy my own dona- 
 tion. And I vowed that I would never patronize 
 him again." 
 
 " That is why you sent me, wasn't it ?" asked the 
 pastor, smiling. 
 
 " Well, I knew he could not refuse you. And you 
 see he did not. We have just come from Mr. 
 Maglundy's, Father." 
 
 "I suppose the millionaire simply bought up all 
 your tickets," ventured Father Sinclair. 
 
 "Indeed, no. He told us that he had already 
 been supplied. Some one had got in ahead of us." 
 "Is he coming to the Festival ?" asked the priest. 
 " We invited him, but I do not think so. Besides, 
 I hardly think we want him." 
 
 "What, Mr. Maglundy! a millionaire? Do not 
 want him at the Autumn Festival ? What do you 
 mean, Miss PickweU?" asked the pastor, apparenUy 
 surprised. 
 
 'Oh, I don't know. 
 
 Wait until vou meet him, 
 
 itt 
 
Human Nature Bobs up 
 
 Father. He wishes to see you to do something for a 
 fountain." 
 
 "Fountain? He must have money to throw 
 away." 
 
 Father Sinclair was fishing for impressions, and 
 the reasons of thc'r aversion soon began to come 
 out. 
 
 "But, Father, he is so uneducated," said Miss 
 Pickwell. 
 
 "What of that, my child ? Want of education is 
 not a sin." 
 
 "But he is so conceited and boorish. Always 
 talking about himself and that fountain of his." 
 
 " He may have had interesting things to say." 
 
 "But they were not interesting, were they, 
 Madge?" asked Miss Pickwell, turning to her 
 companion. "What did he mean by telling us all 
 about his Trans-Siberian stocks, and bulls, and 
 bears, and everything that we know nothing about ?" 
 
 " Perhaps he is going to start a menagerie. Should 
 you not like to see some Trans-Siberian bulls and 
 bears?" 
 
 "Father Sinclair, you are perfectly dreadful. 
 When we tell you things, you neve*^ listen. All the 
 same, thanks for the coffee. Come on, Madge." 
 
 70 
 
CHAPTER Vn 
 A Millicmaire with a Hobby 
 
 TiTlSS Pickwell would have had some difficulty 
 **••■■ in proving her assertion that Father Sinclair 
 never listened. He had been listening, and hstening 
 attentively to all he heard during the past few days; 
 and, what is more, he had been reflecting on the 
 inconsistency of it all. Could this be Christian 
 charity? Could it be the charity that the Gospel 
 counselled? Here were twenty or thirty members 
 of his flock trudging around the city trying to dispose 
 of tiny squares of cardboard, at so much apiece, 
 which would admit his own parishioners — wealthy, 
 a fair proportion of them — ^to Monument Hall, to 
 amuse themselves before they would contribute to 
 a crying need. 
 
 " Even when they give an alms for a good work," 
 he mused, "they must first get their money's worth." 
 
 Was this Catholic charity? Nay, more, was it 
 common justice that the flower of his flock should 
 bv obliged to go from house to house, or busy them- 
 selves at home for days and days, simply to entice 
 people to spend a few dollars in aid of a work they 
 themselves and Iheir childi-en wuuid profit by ? 
 
 71 
 
A Millionaire 
 
 "We shall see," said Father Sinclair, continuing 
 to soliloquize, ** that the very people who spend the 
 least will he the ones who will have all the fault to 
 find with the library and its management later on. 
 I know what is coming. Those little ticket-sellers 
 of mine and those little candy-makers are heroines. 
 They do more for charity's sake than the rest of 
 the parish put together. And the snubs and the 
 rebuffs they are getting are simply galling. One 
 would think they were working for their personal 
 profit." 
 
 The pastor was walking up and down the balcony 
 of the glebe-house. He had his great coat and cap 
 on, and his gloves. He was al>out to make a visit 
 to Mr. Maglundy. This r.^w arrival in Laurenboro 
 had been brought to his attention so often lately, 
 and in such an unfavorable light, that he could hardly 
 say he had much confidence in him. 
 
 Small things often give us the key to greater ones. 
 That fountain project, which he had heard about 
 from difiPerent sources, suggested a certain sense of 
 civic vanity on the part of Mr. Maglundy; and the 
 inscription in a dead language which he desired 
 seemed very much like an affectation. These 
 qualities in the stranger did not forebode a favorable 
 understanding between the two men whose ideals 
 were so totally different, and Father Sinclair felt a 
 
 distinct repugnance to call on the millionaire. 
 
 72 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 Should he find out, when he learned to know him 
 better, that this was one of those mortals who try 
 to get all the glory they can, at the least possible 
 cost to themselves ? Maglundy had wealth, evidently. 
 He had now reached the Glory phase. He was go- 
 ing to build a monument to himself in Blenheim 
 Square. We should soon see him in Politics. Later 
 would come the pha^e of Pleasure-seeking. To 
 reach heaven such men would have to compete 
 with the camel that could force its way through the 
 eye of a needle. 
 
 But all this soliloquizing was vei^ng on unchari- 
 tableness. Father Sinclair justified himself by the 
 conclusion that he had been thinking only of abstract 
 cases. He could truly say that he did not know 
 Maglundy. So that all the hard things that had 
 passed through his mind about rich jiarvenus in 
 general did not necessarily apply to him. 
 
 Half an hour later the pastor walked up the steps 
 of the great limestone mansion at the comer of 
 Howarth and Buell Streets. A gardener was gather- 
 ing the dead leaves into heaps here and there on the 
 sward. The long, prettily shaped flower-beds, with 
 their wealth of violets and roses, which Father Sin- 
 clair had so often admired during the summer 
 months, lay bare and wretched. Nature was going 
 into decline, and the sight had a depressing effect on 
 
 the sesthetic instincts of the visitor. 
 
 7S 
 
A Millionaire 
 
 A somewhat slatternly maid, who had quite reached 
 the years of discretion, took his card on a very large 
 silver tray, and then with a "This-way-please," 
 uttered in a voice that attempted to be soft, drew 
 the portieres aside and ushered the priest into the 
 drawing-room, a realm of luxurious splendor, and 
 a sort of wonderland in which the beholder was con- 
 fused by the number and variety of curious objects 
 gathered in from the world without. 
 
 Father Sinclair felt a sense of the incongruous. 
 Was it a drawing-room or a museum ? His instinct 
 told him, howevei--had he not already known it— 
 that Mr. Maglundy was a bachelor, and that prob- 
 ably the woman who took his card was to blame. 
 
 A rather strange spectacle was presented by the 
 ingenious display of a genuine pick and shovel and 
 a miner's pan— the heraldry of the mining worid 
 —resting against the mantlepiece. The owner of the 
 house was evidently proud of these implements. 
 There were cabinets along the walls filled with gim- 
 cracks of every description and California curios. 
 A few books on mineralogy lay covered with dust 
 on the center table. From the ceiling hung a huge 
 Japanese umbrella, on which dust and cobwebs had 
 gathered notably, relics no less of shiftless manage- 
 ment than of asojoum in the West. There were other 
 signs of neglected wonders which by their peculiar 
 position indicated that Maglundy was at the mercy 
 
 74 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 •r» 
 
 ,t 
 
 of a housekeeper who had not the same resp 
 for them as must have animated the original lord 
 of these things. The priest sympathized with him, 
 and was just instituting a comparison between the 
 guardian spirit of this househ Id and his own good- 
 natured but not very tidy Nanny, when a quick, 
 jerky step was heard coming <iown the stair. The 
 portieres were drawn isidc and revealed Silas 
 Maglundy himself, a l«'tic .«miling lump of a man, 
 not more than five fe<t iuu, .fichtshigh roiptjjent, 
 with bald head and rv.ddy fa(t. :,u pathetic blue 
 eyes, prominent nose, and u tnft of whisker under 
 each ear. 
 
 "How do you do, Fawthei : " he lisped. Mr. 
 Maglundy 's grammar was above repro;ich, but all 
 his "a's" were "aw's," and all his mj mows, whales, 
 as the pastor soon discovered.—"! am delighteti to 
 meet you . Have been anxious to meet your Re v erence 
 for some time." 
 
 He pressed the visitor's hand with a grasp that 
 betokened genuine cordiahty. Pointing to a chair, 
 and falling into one himself, he proceeded: 
 
 " I am a CawthoUc, you know." 
 
 "I had heard so," replied Father Sinclair, de- 
 murely, "and I am very well pleased to meet you; 
 indeed I had hoped to have that pleasure before this." 
 
 "My fault, sir, that you did not; although I have 
 been in Laurenboro little over a month. Quite a 
 
 75 
 
 
 
A Millf onaire 
 
 beautiful place this city of yours. Was quite a 
 revelation to me. Think I shall reside here perma- 
 nently in future. I hope in fact to do something in 
 my own small way to improve conditions here." 
 
 " The fountain will soon be out," thought Father 
 Sinclair, who felt a growing desire to laugh at the 
 sight of such petty vanity. But he concealed his 
 sentiments. The first glimpse the old man had 
 given the priest of himself was that of Maglundy 
 smiling. The impression was favorable and was 
 destined to remain with him. 
 
 " Your name is Saint Clair, Fawther. I used to 
 know a family out in California of that name — the 
 Saint Clairs, well-to-do " 
 
 "They may be distant relatives of mine," replied 
 the pastor, blandly. "Oui-s was a la»-w family." 
 
 "Indeed; and drifted apart in u « »• years, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "Yes," said Father Sinclair, "we are all well 
 dispersed now. But it took ages. We are descend- 
 ants of the navigator who sailed in his own sliip and 
 got stranded on Ararat." 
 
 "How sad," exclaimed Maglundy, sympathetic- 
 ally. "What a calamity! Accidents will happen. 
 Was everything lost ?" 
 
 "No; the family was saved; and the live stock." 
 
 " I am so glad to hear that. How consoling ! " 
 
 The pastor felt that he had carried his facetious- 
 TV 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 ness far enough and he quickly changed the 
 uninteresting topic. 
 
 " So you are going to stay with us, Mr. Maglundy ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I think so, Fawther. My interests are centred 
 in Laurenboro for some time to come. You know 
 I have been engaged in mining for some years in 
 California, and had a half-ownership in a quartz 
 claim out there. Do you smoke, Fawther ? " 
 "Occasionally." 
 
 " Well, just come upstairs. I want to have a talk 
 with you. And besides, I want to let you into a 
 little secret of mine, and get your advice." 
 
 ** The fountain, to a certainty," thought the pastor, 
 as he followed the stout little man upstairs. 
 
 The smoking-room was a cosy spot. A few 
 delightfully fashioned easy chairs looked very 
 inviting. Photos of California mining-camps almost 
 covered the four walls. 
 
 After they had lighted their cigars, Maglundy 
 continued : 
 
 " Yes, I had a half-interest in a claim out there. 
 One day I struck a pocket— or 'blow-out', as we 
 miners call it— and I saw what I had. I bought the 
 other half-interest and developed the mine myself, 
 which proved a treruendous payer. Naturally I 
 drifted from mines to stocks, and manipulated 
 successfully in Trans-Siberian. And here I am, 
 
 77 
 
A Mmionaire 
 
 I 
 
 as you see, a success in life — made my pile, as my 
 old friends the miners say." 
 
 And Maglundy settled down into his leathern 
 chair with evident satisfaction. 
 
 "What became of your partner.''" asked Father 
 Sinclair. 
 
 "I don't really know; his future didn't worry 
 me. Why should it?" 
 
 "I really do not know why it should not," re- 
 joineil the priest. " You .say he was your partner — 
 and I fancy he must have naturally been interested 
 in your discovery." 
 
 "Oh yes, I understand. That was years ago, 
 but I lost sight of him long since. I think he is 
 somewhere in the West still. But that does not 
 worry me. I purpose doing something for my 
 fellow beings. Some one of your learned men has 
 said, I think, that a private good must give way to 
 the public weal." 
 
 "Yes, certainly, private interests must yield at 
 times to the public weal, provided justice is not 
 involved." 
 
 "No doubt you are right; but of course the law 
 takes care of that, and we need not go out of our 
 way to be just where everyone can claim his own in 
 the courts." 
 
 The old miner evidently did not care to discuss 
 the subject from the ethical point of view; he was 
 
 78 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 in a philanthropical moml, and was anxious to 
 broach tlic favorite subject of the fountain. How 
 true it is tliat when a man ha.s a hobby he makes 
 the rest of the world suffer. The irrepressibl. topic 
 is served up on all o( casions, and with everj- kind of 
 sauce. Not, of course, that he wishes to tire his 
 victims, or give theui indigestion. It is only because 
 the hobby controls him antl he himself has become 
 its Wctim. Apparently, Maglundy had reached this 
 stage; the pastor's keen mind had divined it clearly 
 enough. 
 
 " I want to let you into a little secret of mine. I 
 ma}' as well tell you that I intend to present a 
 drinking-fountain to the citizens of I>aurenboro, 
 for the use of man and beast. And here is the 
 design I have had prepared." 
 
 The old man pulled out of a pigeon-hole a well- 
 thumbed document wliich he unfolded and put 
 before the amazed eyes of Father Sinclair. Them 
 was a clearly drawn pen-and-ink sketch of a cow 
 lying on the top of a hillock in a pool of water. 
 
 " The idea is original, isn't it }" 
 
 " It certainly is," exclained the priest. 
 
 " And I think it will be welcome to the citizens of 
 Laiirenboro. You see, I have always had a great 
 love for dumb animals; they are so useful to man. 
 But I think their place is not properly estimated in 
 the domain of art. We have tigers and lions and 
 
 79 
 
A Mimonaire 
 
 hones to represent animals in monuments; but no 
 one has ever introduced the row to express the 
 nobiHty of useful service. Yet this animal provides 
 us Avith food and drink and clothing. 
 
 "Is there anything on this green «»rth more 
 attractive than a field of cows, or mnre grateful 
 and nourishing than a glass of fresh milk .- Wliat 
 poet was it who sang 
 
 'The lowing cows ctMne walkaii; o'er the fiekls ?" 
 
 "Homer, possibly!*" quickly answertHl Father 
 Sinclair, half thinking that the old mmt mig^ be 
 doting. 
 
 " I can almost see those gentle glasssy eyes," con- 
 tinued the millkwBaire. "and hear the swish of the 
 tail. Out in Caiifomia we once had " 
 
 But the visitor was waxing fidgety. He handed 
 back the roll to the owner, and was preparing to 
 leave. 
 
 " The design for the work is almost completed, as 
 you see it there; but I should be plea.sed if you would 
 make some suggestion, Fawther, as to details." 
 
 Father Sinclair reflected a moment. 
 
 " Are you really in earnest about this matter, Mr. 
 Maglundy," said he, with a humorous air. "I 
 should say you would need a shed for the cow; it 
 is hardly fau- to keep her out.side in all kinds of 
 weather. The Avinter is coming on." 
 
 80 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 "Why surely I am in earnest, Fawther," said 
 the millionaire; "but of course the cow will be of 
 bronze." 
 
 "Why not put a canopy over her— to keep the 
 rain off?" 
 
 "But how could that be done? It would alte- 
 the design." 
 
 "And besides," continued the pastor, not minding 
 the interruption, "she will be lonesome. Why not 
 add a calf or two?" 
 
 "That would add materially to the expense, 
 Fa^lher; extra piping, and so on," said Maglundy. 
 not seeming to realize the ridiculous element in the 
 criticism of a project which he had fondly cherished 
 until it had absorbed all his sense of the ludicrous. 
 
 "I admit it would cost something more. But 
 then your fountain would serve a double purpose." 
 
 "Indeed! How so?" Maglundy s eyes were 
 flasliing in wonderment. 
 
 " It would be a monument to the donor, and an 
 emblem of motheriv affection." 
 "Affection?" exclaimed the millionaire. 
 " Why yes. I mean bovine maternal affection." 
 Maglundy stared; but it was the stare of vacuity. 
 The old man thought he understood. 
 "Down goes the calf, Fawther." 
 And taking pen and paper, he wrote : " One or two 
 calves; affection, shelter, extra piping." 
 
 81 
 
 i 
 
A Millionaire 
 
 " But this must be your own idea, Mr. IMaglundy, 
 — not mine. Do you hear?" 
 
 Father Sinclair had not expected so complete and 
 ready an acquiescence to his suggestion; and became 
 alarmed lest, in his earnestness to carry out the 
 monumental idea, Mr. Maglundy might quote him 
 as authority for the alterations in the design. 
 
 " O yes, Fawther; I will take care of that. I am 
 glad I consulted you before I gave out the contract." 
 
 The old man folded the document again and 
 carefully laid it away. 
 
 " Now, Fawther, I am anxious to have an inscrip- 
 tion put on the fountain. I have passed many an 
 hour thinking what it might be. Anything in 
 English would be too common to put on a bronze 
 tablet — don't you think so? What should you 
 suggest?" 
 
 "I really do not know," replied Father Sinclair. 
 " Do you want one in German, or French, or some 
 other modern language?" 
 
 " Tfi. '^^ is just what I do not want. I have read, 
 and you of course know, that living 'anguages 
 change in course of time, and that dead languages 
 don't. I should like a language on the slab that 
 would never change. It ought always to be able to 
 tell who gave the fountain to Laurenboro." 
 
 "How would Greek or Latin do?" asked the 
 pastor. 
 
Wfth a Hobby 
 
 "Th^ are dead languages— are they? — and not 
 likely to change?" 
 
 " Dead as a door-nail," echoed the priest. 
 
 "I think I should prefer Greek, then," ventured 
 the old man. 
 
 He handed Father Sinclair a tablet and pen, and 
 the priest, with a somewhat quizzical smile, wrote : 
 
 ZIAAS MAFAYNAIO^ 
 ME AEAQKE 
 
 Maglundy seized the paper and looked at it. It 
 was clear that the old miner's classics had been 
 neglected, for he turned suddenly to his visitor and 
 exclaimed: "What is this, Fawther?" 
 
 "The Greek inscription for your fountain." 
 
 Maglundy examined it carefully, turned it about 
 in various ways, and said, somewhat dejectedly: 
 "I don't know Greek, Fawther, and shouldn't be 
 able to say which is top or bottom ; but tell me what 
 it means. I am afraid most people would be as much 
 puzzled as myself, and no one could ever tell who 
 gave the fountain to Laurenboro. What is the 
 English for that?" 
 
 The pastor pointed out the Greek words, and read 
 SUtu Maglundy donated me. 
 
 " Of course, it is the cow which is supposed to be 
 speaking," he added, with a little vicious smile; for 
 the outlines of a comedy worthy of Moliere b^an 
 to grow up before him with lightning rapidity. 
 
 Man 
 
A Millionaire 
 
 "The idea is there, Fawther; but I don't think I 
 should Uke that. The words cannot be read. Why, 
 I cannot make out my own name. How would it 
 be in Latin?" 
 
 The priest took the tablet again and wrote: 
 
 SILAS - MAGLVNOIVS - MC 
 DONAVIT 
 
 "This looks more like our own English, doesn't 
 it? Indeed, I can recognize my own name. But 
 that IVB at the end — what is it there for?" 
 
 *' It gives the word Maglundy a cla.ssical touch." 
 
 " Do the other word^ mean the same as the Greek ?" 
 
 " The very same thing," answered the pastor. 
 
 Maglundy pondered, gazing intently meanwhile 
 at the tablet. 
 
 " I do not like that word me so close to my name. 
 Ignorant people in Laurenboro might suppose the 
 cow was calling herself Maglundy," said the old 
 man, laughing. 
 
 "I can give you another phrase which renders 
 the same sentiment," suggested the pastor. 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 Father Sinclair took the tablet a third time and 
 wrote: 
 
 DONVM - SILAC • MAGLVNDM 
 
 "What does this mean ?" asked the old man. 
 
 " The Gift of Silas Maglundy," answered the 
 
 pastor. 
 
 84 
 
With a Hobby 
 
 "Those too n's at the end of ray name do not 
 look well. Could they not be changed so as to 
 leave the name straight, plain, humble Maglundy 
 which everybody would recognize at sight ?" 
 
 "Not easily, sir. Latin is a dead language. I 
 think you had better stand by this on*." said Father 
 Sinclair, pertly. He was tiring of the comedy. 
 
 " Veiy well, Fawther, I will. " 
 
 The pastor rose to go. 
 
 "Tell me, Mr. Maglundy, do you really mean to 
 have that design carried out, and to set that cow up 
 in Blenheim Square?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly I do. Transferring a gentle brute 
 of the fields to Blenheim Square; the idea is poetic 
 is it not?" 
 
 "And decidedly bucolic," answered Pathcr Sin- 
 clair, wearily, putting out his hand to him. "1 fear I 
 must be off, Mr. Maglundy. By the way, we are going 
 to have a Festival in Monument Hall, next week, 
 in aid of a Free Library I should wish to establish 
 for our people. I think that you might help us in 
 the good work, seeing that God has given jcu a 
 large share of this worid's wealth. You are laboring 
 at this moment to be useful to our citizens in afford- 
 ing them, by the erection of a fountain, an oppor- 
 tunity of quenching the thirst of their bodies. The 
 ladies of my parish are working hard these days to 
 slake a thirst in souls. A good Ubrary is a fountain 
 
 86 
 
A Millionaire 
 
 of living waters, and we are without one. Will you 
 be with us at Monument Hall on Wednesday next ?" 
 
 " I fear I may be engaged with my contractors on 
 that night. However, I will do my best to get there." 
 
 Father Sinclair slipped downstairs, donned his 
 coat and cap, and pa.s.scd into the street, thankful 
 to l)c out of the domain of what he considered at 
 that moment the greatest bore of the century. 
 
 " We shall not see Maglundy at the Festival, that's 
 certain," he mused, as he turned homewards; 
 "that fountain for the citizens of I^urenboro is 
 .simply to be a monument to himself; and the Lord 
 forgive me, but it will be most appropriate." 
 
 Only one thing tormented him. If that good- 
 natured but vain old man should dare tell any one 
 that it was the pastor of St. Paul's who suggested 
 the addition of the calf, it would be all over with 
 him. He consoled himself, however, by the reflec- 
 tion : " Most likely Maglundy will take all the glor}- 
 of the design to himself; and he is welcome to it." 
 
 It was almost dark when he reached the glebe- 
 house, tired of his useless errand. The impression 
 left upon him was that his new parishioner, though 
 shrewd enough in certain ways that had helped him 
 to his wealth, was a mixture of ignorance and 
 vanity in equal parts. 
 
 " ^rom ifniorance our comfort flows. 
 
 The only wretched are the wise." 
 86 
 
I 
 
 With A Hobby 
 
 Yet that was xnA. all; there was something more 
 in the man whicli had not escaped Father Sinclair's 
 notice, despite his irritation at the ex-miner's vulgar 
 eagerness for self-advertisement. The sympathetic 
 blue eyes, and frankness and simplicity of manner, 
 bespoke something nobler in Mr. Maglundy's heart 
 than what appeared on the surface; the pastor felt 
 that the time might soon come when this better 
 element would assert itself. 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove had been waiting for nearly an 
 hour. 
 
 "Three hundred dollars are already in. Father," 
 she said; "but the orchestra, which promised its 
 services, now wants to be paid." 
 
 "Well, I suppose we shall have to pay for the 
 whistle." 
 
 " And a bill has come in for the ice-cream which 
 was accepted as a donation the other day at the 
 meeting." 
 
 " Let us foot the bill out of the receipts. We shall 
 have that many books the less," added the oastor, 
 resignedly. 
 
 "Are not some people queer?" asked the presi- 
 dent. 
 
 "Some people are queer, Mrs. Melgrove," an- 
 swered the pastor, philosophically. 
 
 "However," added the energetic lady, "we must 
 
 not complain too much. Mrs. Molvey has sent us 
 
 87 
 
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[I 
 
 A Millionaire 
 
 her lai^e lamp and some chandeliers for the tables; 
 and she has promised to work in the Hall. Miss 
 Gye has promised to sing, and Mr. Trebble will 
 play her accompaniment. And there are ever so 
 many other things that I wanted to tell you— Oh, yes; 
 the ladies are anxious to see Mr. Maglundy at the 
 Festival." 
 
 " I have just come from his house, and I fear the 
 ladies will be disappointed. The old gentleman has 
 other things on his mind at present." 
 
 "I am so sorry. Miss Garvey was going to take 
 charge of him," said Mrs. Melgrove, laughing. 
 " Do you know. Father, he is a very wealthy man. 
 My husband tells me he owns one of the richest 
 gold mines in the West, and that he nearly created 
 a panic in Trans-Siberian stocks, on Wall Street, a 
 few months ago. Could you imagine such a thing ? " 
 
 "I certainly could not," replied the priest. "But 
 let us suppose Mr. Maglundy has developed along 
 financial lines; that will explain his limitations in 
 other directions. At all events, I do not think we 
 shall see him at the Festival. I shall sympathize 
 with him if he reaches there, and Miss Garvey sets 
 eyes on him. What are the prospects for Wednes- 
 day?" 
 
 "Very good. I have hopes that we may clear 
 five or six hundred. We have some excellent 
 workers in this parish, earnest and zealous. Our 
 
 88 
 
f 
 
 With a Hobby 
 
 little ticket-sellers and candy-makers deserve all 
 praise. They have worked hard during the past 
 fortnight. Their booths are simply fairy dells; and 
 I should be sorry if they were disappointed." 
 
 " Did the palms arrive ?" asked the pastor. 
 
 "The palms are in the Hall, and they give quite 
 an Oriental aspect to the whole scene. However, 
 we shall see you on Wednesday, Father," said Mrs. 
 Melgrove, rising. 
 
 Father Sinclair opened the door and added: 
 "TeU Miss Garvey that if the millionaire does not 
 appear at the Festival, there are the 'inseparables' 
 to take his place— Gray the Bachelor and his 
 friend Tompkins. They are both wealthy, and they 
 are sure to be there." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Festival in Monument Hall 
 
 jyfONUMENT HALL was a wilderness of palms, 
 flowers, lights, decorations, aU artistically 
 blended. The booths were what the president had 
 caUed them— fairy dells; every one filled with good 
 things and carefully guarded by dozens of St. Paul's 
 vivacious and prettily gowned lay-helpers. 
 
 Shortly after seven o'clock the ticket-holders 
 began to arrive; in less than an hour the spacious 
 room was filled with citizens of aU denominations. 
 Of course, the greater number were Father Sinclair's 
 own parishioners. But there was a blending of 
 the masses and the classes that evening which 
 recalled the Church to which most of them belonged. 
 The orchestra wis playing selections from Ber- 
 lioz, when the pastor entered. He moved through 
 the miscellaneous throng with a bright smUe and a 
 pleasant word recognition for all. The new 
 library was naturally the topic of the evening; and 
 many were the good wishes for its success which 
 were expressed within Father Sinclair's hearing. 
 
 Meanwhile the booths were becoming the center 
 of attraction. The candy-seUers had theirs close 
 
 »1 
 
The Festi .\l 
 
 a 
 
 to the wall arranged in the form of a V. The table 
 was decorated in blue and gray — no one knew why, 
 unless it was because the lady in charge had come 
 originally from Virginia. Immeasurable quantities 
 of chocolate and cream candy were temptingly dis- 
 played in layers, and stores of the same delicious 
 articles were within reach of the assistants, who 
 were ready to dole out the dainty boxes and take 
 in the cash. 
 
 The flower booth was in the opposite corner. 
 Chrysanthemums and roses, velvet pansies and 
 ferns, were spread out in the most artistic manner; 
 and a dozen rose-lamps, scattered here and there 
 among them, shed a mellow radiance that gave to 
 the whole a positively faiiy-like appearance. The 
 presence of the rose- lamps told the pastor plainly 
 that his old sexton had not been able to resist the 
 pressure. On a massive pedestal, in the center of 
 the Hall, the Honolulu palms from the City Gardens 
 heaved up and down as though moved by their 
 native zephyrs. Flower-bearers, candy-sellers, Dolly 
 Vardens and Marguerites glided hither and thither 
 with boutonnieres for sale, and fancy boxes, guessing- 
 bottles, and fortune tickets. 
 
 "Mr. Gray!" 
 
 Gray turned pale at the mention of his name. 
 
 "Mr. Gray," said Clare Cayson, "will you please 
 guess how many beans there are m this bottle? 
 
 9» 
 
In Monument Hall 
 
 There is the loveliest pin just waiting for you if 
 you guess the right number." 
 
 "Bless your 'eart, Miss," gasped Gray, 'Tm not 
 a Yankee, Miss. I'm from Lunnun-on-the-Tems." 
 
 •' Well, just give me a number, and then I want 
 twenty-five cents for the privilege of your guess." 
 
 "But I protest, Miss; I really am not a Yankee. 
 Never guessed in my life. Don't know 'ow it is done. 
 But 'ere is twenty-five cents, provided you leave me 
 alone, and make my friend, Mr. Tompkins 'ere, 
 guess." 
 
 "Mr. Tompkins, won't you guess .>" asked Clare. 
 
 " Every time. Miss. I'm from Bosting. 'I^venty- 
 'leven hundred and one." 
 
 "Won't you please put that number down, and 
 then give me twenty-five cents ?" 
 
 Tompkins found it harder than he thought to get 
 figures for his number. But the operation cost him 
 only a quarter of a dollar. 
 
 Gray was congratulating himself on his narrow 
 escape, when a gentle voice suddenly fell on his ear: 
 
 "Don't you want your fortune told, Mr. Gray?" 
 This time it was M.3S Garvey who spoke. 
 
 "Look 'ere. Miss, I'm a confirmed bachehih, and 
 you 'ave uitahly no chawnce. Try my friend 
 Tompkins ere. 'E is a bachelah, but not a confirmed 
 one." 
 
 ■ru 
 
 see Mr. Tompkins later. If you are a 
 9S 
 
The Festival 
 
 bachelor, Mr. Gray, you can afford twenty-five cents 
 for the new library." And she got it. 
 
 "Now it's Mr. Tompkins' turn." 
 
 Tompkins looked at his friend in despair. 
 
 " Say, Gray, this beats an Arizona hold-up. Let's 
 get out of here, or we'll go stranded." 
 
 "No, Miss, this friend of mine 'ere, Tompkins, 
 'as plenty of money ip 'is pockets; ^.•^d so go and get 
 the othah ladies. I'll 'old 'im till you come back." 
 
 But Gray made Tompkins bolt as soon as Miss 
 Garvey had left; and he bolted, too, when he saw her 
 returning. Neither of them could be found. 
 
 During this litth episode Miss Gye sang from 
 A'ida, and responded to an encore by rendering the 
 Gipsy Solo from // Trovatore. 
 
 The word had been passed round among the 
 ladies what was to be done if Silas Maglundy ap- 
 peared; Miss Garvey, who knew him by sight, was 
 told off to keep her eyes on the door. 
 
 But a note was handed to Father Sinclair instead, 
 which dashed all hopes to the ground. It read as 
 follows : 
 
 "The Reverend Father Sinclair will please excuse Mr. 
 Maglundy's absence. He will be occupied all the 
 evoiing with his contractors^ with whom he is to discuss 
 the proposed addition of the calf and the extras to the 
 city fountain. Mr. Maglundy begs to iuiorm Father 
 Sinclair that he has changed the inscription a bit." 
 
 "Changed the inscription a bit! Evidently the 
 
 94 
 
Li Monument Hall 
 
 work of some wag," mused the pastor, thrusting the 
 note into his pocket. " Just do as you please, Mr. 
 Maglundy, provided you keep that calf episode to 
 yourself." 
 
 The fortune-tents were doing a thriving business. 
 Miss Brownlese, dressed as a gipsy, was in one 
 comer of the room, and Miss Seddon in the other. 
 
 Tompkins and Gray had quietly edged up to the 
 latter's tent. Tompkins sneaked in and came out 
 after five minutes, twenty-five cents poorer. 
 
 Gray was waiting for him. 
 
 "Strange how some people like to be fooled," 
 said Tompkins, putting his hand over his bald head; 
 "and the old fools are the worst." 
 
 "What did she tell you ?" asked Gray. 
 
 But Tompkins and Gray got no farther. Miss 
 Garvey and half a dozen Mai^uerites had surroumlrd 
 them with boutonnieres for sale. 
 
 Tompkins looked at Gray, and Gray looked at 
 Tompkins. Both were in the agony of despair. 
 This time they could not escape. 
 
 "Have you got any more money, gentlemen?" 
 asked Miss Garvey. 
 
 " All gone," vociferated Tompkins. 
 
 "All gone," echoed Gray, only louder. 
 
 "Well, we are looking for an auctioneer; and I 
 
 hear, Mr. Gray, that you are excellent at that." 
 
 "I a hauctioneer, Miss!" exclaimed Giay. 
 
 95 
 
The Feitival 
 
 "What's that? Ow do yon spell it? It mu8t be 
 ray friend, Mr. TompkiiKs, you arc aftah." 
 
 "No, sir; it is you wc are after," insisted Miss 
 Garve} 
 
 " Ton my 'onah. Miss, IVn willin' to wager tup- 
 pence that it's Mr. Tompkins you 'ah aftah." 
 
 It was Tompkins; for lu-forc the latter could 
 escape, a dozen University students sciztd him and 
 hoisted him on to one of the tab.es. 
 
 ^Vith the best possible grace, Tompkins, on « hom 
 all eyes in the hall were turned, entered into the 
 spirit of the scene. He drew himself up and began: 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, this occasion is a memor- 
 able one. I regret that you have not seen fit to 
 choose some one who could fill the position better 
 than I, and do credit to himself and this honorable 
 assembly." 
 
 "Question, question," came from a dozen quar- 
 ters at once. 
 
 "The question at issue, ladies and gentlemen, is 
 this. I have seized its importance. The question 
 at issue is to dispose of as much candy as possible, 
 and of as many flowers as possible, for the greatest 
 possible amount of cash. Is not that the question at 
 issue at this solemn moment?' 
 
 "That is the question," echoed the dozen voices. 
 
 "WeP>, let us begin. Here is a splendid box, all 
 done up in colors, and brimful of deUcious choco- 
 
 96 
 
In Monument liall 
 
 latcH. Wimt am I offtrccJ f Iamk at the ribbons, 
 
 ladies, Iho blue and the gray, mi igUiig " 
 
 "Tompkins must lye a Soulhemcr," whispered 
 Miss Garvey to Clare Cayson. 
 
 " ^their variegated tints— recalling the heroic 
 
 years— what am I offered?" 
 
 "But he is!" insisted Miss Garvey; "and he told 
 us he was from Boston." 
 
 "Reealling the years of the great civil struggle— 
 what am I offered?" 
 
 " Five cents," came a voice from the rear. 
 " Five cents I am offered for a two-dollar box of 
 chocolates— Chattamauga brand— five cents! Are 
 you not ashamed of yourself, sir?" 
 " Ten cents," ventured a voice. 
 "Fifteen," shouted another. 
 " Two bits," vociferated a Westerner. 
 "Ten anc? fifteen and twenty-five make fifty 
 cents. Fifty offered— going, going— " 
 "Ont dollar." 
 
 "One dollar for a two-dollar box of candy, done 
 up in blie and gray, recalling the events of forty 
 years ago when you and I were young." He looked 
 at Miss Garvey. "The two c ^ors peace; uUy en- 
 twining a two-dollar box of chocolates. Half its 
 
 value— going -going gone !" 
 
 Tompkins kept this clatter up for nearly an hour, 
 and disposed of all the flowers and candy; even ♦b > 
 
The Festival 
 
 chrysanthemums which, he declared, had come 
 tlircct from Japanese ganlens for the occasion. 
 
 "Wasn't he a success?" exclaimed Miss (iarvey 
 to Clare. " But he needn't liave looked at me when 
 he mentioned that horrid Civil War. People might 
 really guess my age. I know tiiey are trying hard." 
 This was a delicate point with the little lady; but 
 she went over to congratulate Tompkins who had 
 joined his friend. 
 
 " What did I tell you ?" asked Gray. "And you 
 wanted to get me up there ?" 
 
 Every one voted Tompkins a success as an 
 auctioneer. The University students were about 
 to show their appreciation after their own peculiar 
 methods, when Gray rescued his friend, and both 
 escaped through the door. 
 
 The auctioning off was the last item on the pro- 
 gramme of the evening. The orchestra playc. the 
 National Anthem, which was listened to in respectful 
 silence. The visitors then slowly dispersed; the 
 lights were lowered; the Autumn Festival became 
 a matter of history. 
 
 OB 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 Unrest in the Camp of the Enemy 
 
 rilHE excitement and fati^es of the past couple 
 "■• of weeks had told on the ' - ;anizers. It was 
 two days before Mrs. Melgrove or any of her lieu- 
 tenants appeared at the glebe-house. 
 
 "Well, Madame la PreaiderUe," asked Father 
 Sinclair, smiling, "what is the condition of the 
 treasury?" 
 
 " Six hundred dollars. Father, and several ticket- 
 sellers still to be heard from." 
 
 " That is splendid. It aieans at least four hundred 
 books to begin with, does it not ?" 
 
 " It should have been more. But the expenses were 
 higher than we bargained for. We had to buy some 
 of the flowers and the ribbon for the candy boxes." 
 
 "No matter," said the pastor, encouragingly; 
 " that is a splendid result. And at your final meeting 
 on Wednesday, will you not thank everybody 
 concerned?" 
 
 The enei^tic president departed, conscious of 
 a good work done; and the pastor put the money 
 away in the safe. 
 
 But Father Sinclair could not get it out of his 
 mind that six hundred dollars was a small sum with 
 
 99 
 
Unrest in the 
 
 which to begin a free pubUc library. If men like 
 Mr. Maglundy— and there were dozens of them in 
 Laurenboro— could find several thousand doUars 
 to put up drinking-fountains, which nobody wanted, 
 they could easily contribute a few hundred for a 
 vastly more important work. And Maglundy had 
 given just one half-dollar— he had bought a ticket. 
 The Newells had not contributed anything. 
 
 How could he approach these wealthy men and 
 lay the affair before them? This was the problem 
 that was worrying him. Might they not be uiged 
 to contribute, according to their means, to the work 
 of God's Church for the welfare of souls, and the 
 care of the poor ? But that waa a subject for further 
 consideration. The work in hand was to begin the 
 library as soon as possible. 
 
 The day after the Festival, a squib appeared in 
 the Times. 
 
 "The Directors of the Elzevir leam with regret that 
 there is question of establishing a new library in this 
 aty. In view of the efforts they are constantly putting 
 forth to meet Uie desires of all classes, the Directors 
 consider it untimely— unfair, in fact— to neutralize the 
 good tiie Elzevir Library is destined to do in Laurenboro." 
 
 Father Sinclair smiled. 
 
 "This is excellent," he mused. "The shoe is 
 pinching somewhere. A bait thrown out to see who 
 will be caught. We can wait." 
 
 100 
 
Camp of the Enemy 
 
 He did not have long to wait. In the veiy next 
 issue, a note t^ppeared in the Times. 
 
 "To the Editor:— 
 
 "Lest there should be any misunderstanding in 
 cwtain quarters, I desire to say that I have nothinc 
 whatever to do with the movement on foot to establish 
 a hbrary in opposition to the Elzevir. I believe in cen- 
 tralization. 
 
 R. Kenneth Newell." 
 
 "The insufferable audacity," thought Father 
 Sinclair, "and the officiousness." 
 
 He laid down the paper when the telephone rang 
 It was the voice of Melgrove. 
 
 ''Did you see to-night's paper?" Melgrove asked. 
 
 "I did," answered the pa.stor, "and hasn't our 
 fnend NeweU given us a hideous example of spine- 
 lessness." 
 
 "That thing should not be allowed to rest there " 
 persi.sted Melgrove. " We must teach those Newells 
 a lesson. I'll drop a note to Burton myself." 
 
 "What good vill that do?" asked Father Sinclair. 
 
 "At least it will show Kenneth Newell and his 
 likes that they do not represent Catholic sentiment 
 m this section. That's all." 
 
 "Nobody that I know ever thought they did " 
 repKed the pastor, "and a note from you now would 
 only embitter Newell and make things worse. 
 Could you come over to the glebe-house to-morrow 
 evening?" 
 
 101 
 
: i 
 
 Unrest in the 
 
 "I will be with you at seven; will that suit?" 
 And the 'phone rang off. 
 
 The whole of the next day was taken up by 
 Father Sinclair's lieutenants in gathering in the 
 ticket money and settling accounts. The total 
 receipts from the Autunm Festival were $625.25, 
 clear of all expenses, and a dozen tickets unac- 
 counted for. The pastor of St. Paul's sent a note 
 which was to be read at the final meeting of the 
 organizers. It thanked Mrs. Melgrove and the 
 ladies for their devotcdness and their labor, and 
 congratulated them on their success. Hut he was 
 careful to add that the work was only just begun, 
 and that he should call on tliem again when the 
 book catalogues had arrived from the publishers. 
 
 At seven, Nanny ushered IIt)race Melgrove into 
 the cosy study. Xowhere was that excellent man 
 more at home than with Father Sinclair in the 
 glebe-house. The two had been students together 
 at St. Anselm's, and though they had drifted in 
 different directions in after-life, it was one of the 
 pastor's very great consolations, when he moved 
 into Laurenboro, to see his old friend Melgrove 
 settled there in good circumstances. He had worked 
 himself up to the general managership of one of 
 the great insurance companies of the metropolis. 
 Horace Melgrove was a Catholic, pure and simple, 
 
 anH! he was fearless in the expression of his principles. 
 
 103 
 
Camp of the Enemy 
 
 In fact, he was thought sometimes to be a little 
 too hasty in putting them forward. Catholicism 
 was so deeply rooted in him that he could see things 
 only as the Church saw them, even in matters of 
 business. Justice for him, for instance, was some- 
 thing more than a men; term of law. In religion, 
 his unflinching attitude had sometimes given offence 
 to those who could not always see things from his 
 ultra-Catholic point of view. With Protestants he 
 was considered a bigot; with weak-kneed Catholics, 
 like Newell, he was over-zealous. Hut Melgrove 
 was neither; he was simply a practical member of 
 his Church. Half a dozen like him would leaven 
 any parish. 
 
 After the cigars had been lighted, and the topics 
 of the day discussed, the Newell episode was dis- 
 posed of. Business considerations, Melgrove had 
 learned, were at the bottom of NcwcU's grovelling 
 note to the Times. When a man tries to keep 
 friendly with the hare and the hunter, he has many 
 a humiliating leap to make, many a prickly hedge 
 to cross. A Catholic with only },azy convictions, 
 or without courage to uphold the few he has, capitu- 
 lates before the enemy on every occasion, and 
 becomes a scandal for his brethren. 
 
 Melgrove was strongly inclined to carry out his 
 intention of the previous evening and send a note 
 to the Tim^, to protest against Newell's officiousness. 
 
 103 
 
■I ;1 
 
 f 
 
 Unrest in the 
 
 It would head off others of his class who might share 
 his sentiments on centraHzation in Hbrary matters. 
 
 "If we let that pass," he asserted, "we shall soon 
 have a deluge of correspondence, protesting against 
 superfluous libraries. I'm for nipping such im- 
 pertinep"- in the bud, and in the public press too," 
 he added, energetically. 
 
 "Theoretically, y<^u are right, Melgrove," replied 
 the pastor. "If Newell and his friends will air 
 their grievances against us before the public, they 
 should let the public be Ixsleners to the end. But 
 practically, would it be prudent ? Men like NeweM 
 do 'not take kindly to castigation in public. A 
 sound half-hour's talk with him would do him 
 more good than a letter from you in the Times, 
 which would keep wounds open unnecessarily. 
 Newell belongs to the class that would Uke to pass 
 for liberal, — not too bigoted, you know. It is his 
 education that is responsible for this. Newellism 
 would Uke to reconcile the Church and the world. 
 It lias not yet seized what the oneness of Truth is, 
 Melgrove; nor how the human mind must neces- 
 sarily recoil from error. Don't be too hard on 
 Newell. I will try to see him." 
 
 Melgrove acquiesced; but, as if recalling some- 
 thing he had nearly forgotten, he spoke up, 
 
 " I have a suggestion to make." 
 
 The smoke began to curl up to the ceiling. 
 
Gunp of the Enemy 
 
 "Well?" retorted the pastor, "I am waiting." 
 " You should give that new library a name as soon 
 
 as possible." 
 "How would Laurenboro Free Library do?" 
 " Excellent. Now we have a handle to pull in the 
 
 shekels with." 
 
 "Second suggestion," he continued. "Why not 
 get some celebrity to lecture in Laurenboro under 
 the auspices of the Free Library ? It would bring 
 the concern before the public in an intellectual way, 
 and give it lots of advertising." 
 
 "Whom would you suggest?" 
 
 " There is a man creatihg quite a sensation across 
 the border just now"— Melgrove pulled a prospectus 
 from his pocket— " Professor Blundwell Orrin- 
 Flume." 
 
 " Phew!" cried Father Sinclair, who had advanced 
 ideas of his own on triple-masted and hyphenated 
 celebrities. 
 
 " He has a series of lectures," continued Melgrove. 
 " Could we manage to get him for one, at least ?" 
 
 "I see no objection on the horizon," answered 
 the pastor. " What are the lectures about ? Have 
 you the Ust ? Let us choose one." 
 
 Melgrove began to read: 
 
 " 'First Lecture: delivered successfully over five 
 hundred times in different parts of the Union: 
 The True Inwardness of Self.' " 
 
 105 
 
Unrest In the 
 
 "Pure cant," exclaimed Father Sinclair. "Some 
 psychological analysis that has neither philosophy 
 nor sense. Where do these people get their philos- 
 ophy? Pass on." 
 
 " ^Sunshine and Shadow, delivered ' " 
 
 "Moonshine and darkness," said the pastor 
 "Pass on." 
 
 The History of Hypocrisy ' " 
 
 "Has no history. It is ever present. Next." 
 
 " 'Shibboleths and Clajttrap: " 
 
 Father Sinclair reflected. "That sounds well to me. 
 Shibboleths and Claptrap ? If the man would only 
 treat the subject in a practical way, I think it ought 
 to take. You might write to him and get his terms." 
 
 "I did write," answered Melgrove, "and here 
 is the answer," handing the letter over. 
 
 " Professor BlundweU Orrin-Flume respectfully refers 
 all applications for dates and lectures to the Flume 
 Lecture Bureau, Irving Square, New York. His terms 
 are: Two Hundred and fifty dollars and expenses." 
 
 "But where are we going ^o get a quarter of a 
 thousand dollars to pay a man for an hour's lecture ? " 
 asked the pastor 
 
 "Advertise. Get the Times to talk about him. 
 Get the citizens' curiosity aroused. Write to Flume 
 for an anecdote or two. Hire the biggest hall in 
 town. Spend fifty or seventy-five dollars in bill- 
 posting; and so on; and so on." 
 
Camp of the Enemy 
 
 "But supposing 'Deception' be our shibboleth 
 after all this claptrap ?" objected the pastor. 
 
 " The lecture will be a success — ^if we go about it 
 in the right way." 
 
 "Will you undertake the job, Melgrove?" 
 
 "Of course; willingly. I will start to-morrow." 
 
 The visitor bade good night to the pastor and left 
 the glebe-house. 
 
 Melgrove was in his pastor's estimation more of a 
 philosopher than he was given credit for. People do 
 not object to an occasional hoodwinking; thev take 
 kindly to it; it is one of the phases of our social life. 
 And his scheme of advertising the lecture was simply 
 carrying out a practice that is changing the con- 
 ditions of the world. Newspaper notoriety as a way 
 to wealth is what most men are looking for; and they 
 get both, because the rest of the world likes to be 
 hoodwinked. Father Sinclair would have shrunk 
 from such methods, but Melgrove had the com- 
 mercial instinct. He knew the people and how to 
 catch them. That is why he went down-town next 
 morning to the Times office, and had a long talk 
 with Burton, the editor. The result of the interview 
 was the promise of all the space he wanted to ad- 
 vertise — Burton called it "booming" — ^the event 
 which was to take place the following week. 
 
 Three days later a double column half-tone por- 
 trait of Professor Flume appeared in the Times. 
 
 107 
 
I w 
 
 Unrest in the 
 
 He was billed to speak in Orpheon HaU, eight days 
 after, in aid of the Laurenboro Free Libraiy 
 Subject : " Shibboleths and Claptrap." 
 
 Day after day a half-column appeared in print 
 about the lecturer; his early struggles; how he took 
 to the lecture platform; his experiences in slumming 
 m London; his escape from a mob in Chicago; his 
 visit to the King of Siam, etc. AU Laurenboro was 
 discussing Professor BlundweU Orrin-Flume before 
 the week was out. 
 
 Melgrove had the tickets printed at once and 
 distnbuted m various parts of the city. He had the 
 plan of the Orpheon HaU on view in the Eagle 
 Rotunda, whither he went eveiy day to see how 
 the boxes and reserved seats were going. They were 
 going faster than he had anticipated, and he took 
 the precaution of reserving a few " compUmentaries " 
 for the ladies who had worked so hard during the 
 Autumn Festival. Melgrove's tact was equal to his 
 skill in matters of organization; and those who knew 
 him were sure that there would be no bitterness or ill- 
 feehng m any one after he had completed the 
 work he had in hand. 
 
 Only three days remained before the lecture, and 
 the Times was still talking about Flume. 
 
 "What's shibboleths, Jake?" asked Mrs. Herris 
 one evening after laving down the paper. "The 
 Times IS doing nothing all these days but talkimr 
 
 108 ^^ 
 
Camp of the Enemy 
 
 about that new lecturer and about Shibboletht and 
 Claptrap." 
 
 ** Shibboletlis — well, madam — ^}ou know what 
 claptrap is — don't you, dear?" 
 
 Jake made the remark unwittingly. He was only 
 tr}'ing to gain time while he leaned over to get his 
 Worcester. 
 
 "Jacob Herns, that is not nice! You are not 
 answering my question. But I am going to hear him 
 all the same. Have you secured the tickets ?" 
 
 "Why, madam, he lectures only the day after 
 to-moiTow. He hasn't reached town yet. There is 
 plenty of time to get tickets." 
 
 "There is not plenty of time, Jake. I heard to- 
 day that the box-office is closed, or "bout to close, 
 and no more tickets would be sold." 
 
 "That is only an advertising dodge, my dear. 
 Some shrewd genius is engineering that lecture, you 
 may depend upon it. And he will have a full house 
 too. I'll get the tickets to-morrow. But where and 
 what is the Laurenboro Free Library, pray?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard? That is the new library 
 the Catholics are getting up. Father Sinclair is the 
 prime mover in the affair." 
 
 "Glad to hear it," said Jake Herris. "Father 
 
 Sinclair is a man whom I respect. You'll find no 
 
 trash in that library, if he has anything to do with it, 
 
 as you do in the Elzevir." 
 
 109 
 
The Enemy's Unrest 
 
 J.ke. you ,ho,.!dn-l ,pe«lc ,hat way. Are „ol 
 two „ our church clde„ a„,o„« ,he din^to^r' ' 
 
 ••th., r* ■!"'T' •'°^°- ''''™»e''"S l>i» shoulders 
 that docn I „.kc the Hbraiy any Mter." 
 
 But a dBappointmenI awaited Herrfa the n«t 
 
 All the ,cket, had been «>Id, and he went t,n,e to 
 »fo™ h„ w^fe that they should have to foZ^ .h^ 
 picture of hearing Vrol,^, Flume. "sZ we 
 «n hear Shibboleth,." .„id the husband ZJ; 
 « Ins better-half. "A, t„r hearing Claptmp-tiaf 
 pleasure will end in the pave." "^ 
 
 Hems di«,ppeared quickly; for hi, wife wa, coin., 
 to »y something he did not care to U,ten t^Z 
 went,oh»desk«.dpennedanote to Father Sinela"! 
 "Dear Rtvermd Si; 
 "The Ucketa fc, Ui, P|„„e i^„„ «» dl bought .„ 
 
 "Sincerely, 
 
 " Jacob Herrm. " 
 
 "A gratifying note from a non-Cathol,> " u 
 
 no 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 A Professional Lecturer Causes a Sensation 
 
 13 ARELY in her annals did I^urenboro witness 
 ^^ an event like the Flume Lecture. The 
 Orpheon.avery fine specimen of Italian Renaissance, 
 with its delicately tinted ceiling, its stucco walls and 
 columns, and its unex'^elled acoustic properties, was 
 an ideal hall for a speaker. The wealth and fashion 
 turned out to hear i'rofessor Flume; it w.is strictly a 
 society event. The tickets had been placed at two 
 dollars, — another of Molgrove's ideas. Even the 
 boxes were filled. "Standing-room only "was posted 
 as early as eight in the evening. 
 
 Promptly f.t nine o'clock, the Professor was intro- 
 duced; a tall, well-built man, about fifty, clean- 
 shaven, and with long iron-gray hair. He possessed 
 a rich baritone voice, which he modulated to per- 
 fection. His English was the language of a cultured 
 speaker; his thoughts were those of a man who had 
 mingled experience with his philosophy. 
 
 "Shibboleths," said the lecturer, among other 
 
 things, after he had warmed to his subject, "is a 
 
 catchword which charms the minds of the many 
 
 who will not reason for themselves." 
 
 Ill 
 
A Profeuiooal Lecturer 
 
 "In nearly every epoch a majority of the human 
 race has set up some shibbolc' « r8 the sum and 
 substance of its thinking; only o man in a thou- 
 sand we meet daily is an exactthinker, who insists 
 on getting his facts at first-hand. The mulUtudeis 
 entranced by generalities and line phrases. It cares 
 Di for sound than for sense. It is swayed hither 
 and tlii»her, not by reason, but by sentiment. 
 
 "Ask mast men who are prating about Progress- 
 will, the capital P— what they mean by the term, 
 and they will stammer for an answer. They have 
 in their minds no definite idea of progress, but only 
 a vague notion that it means a general advance from 
 a worse to a better state. But ask them to define 
 still furtiier, and they are dmnb. 
 
 "Is not the shibboleth 'non -sectarianism' the 
 tyrant of tie present nge? a catchword that sounds 
 well in the nouths of rhetoricians and demagogues.? 
 that warps the jud-ment of millions of men, and 
 moves them to outrage the sacred rights of conscii • ice ? 
 How lany men could define it.' What does non- 
 sectarianism mean? What does it teach? That 
 the Creator of the Universe, who took the trouble 
 to reveal definite truths to us, cares not whether we 
 believe them or not, and leaves the interpretation 
 of them to the fallible rainds of men; that God is 
 indifferent to objective truth, and that to assert a 
 tru.h or deny it is equaUy pleasing to Him, that 
 
 lit 
 
Catiiet a Seniattoo 
 
 the State which repre!H>nts His authority hatt no 
 
 right to protect truth against the encroachments of 
 
 error. T*'e shibboleth of non-sectarianism is a 
 
 deliberate insult flung into the face of God, who is 
 
 Absolute Truth. Its constant cry among us shows 
 
 the weakness of our poor humanity; it only proves 
 
 that we are men who are moved more by the will 
 
 than the mind. We are rational beings; but, as 
 
 a matter of fact we are not reasoners. We follow 
 
 the shouter of a shibboleth as a flock of sheep 
 
 follows the bell-wether. Even those of us who are 
 
 then of education and independent intellects ire 
 
 subject to the influence of phrases which, by dint 
 
 of repetition, come to have a mastery over our 
 
 tainds. Could there be any greater humiliation for 
 
 our race ? and is there no remedy ? 
 
 "I do not profess Catholicism," exclaimed the 
 
 lecturer, who had flung himself into his subject, and 
 
 who at times was surpassingly eloquent, "but I do 
 
 admire the marvellous logic of its position. Where 
 
 shall we find on God's broad earth to-day such a 
 
 masterly organization ? or such a determined foe of 
 
 moral error.* We have had flaunted in our faces 
 
 for years the shibboleths of non-sectarian schools, 
 
 non-sectarian universities, non-sectanan libraries, 
 
 non-sectarian sources of thought and education. 
 
 What does ii all mean ? Non-sectarianism at bottom 
 
 means Godiessness, or it means nothing. 
 
 lis 
 
A Professional Lecturer 
 
 ■I 
 
 i 
 
 our public hbr.n«. without a supreme mind o^ 
 ™.ce to d.«ct them into one groove of truth .„" 
 -tion. for the welfare, n,oml and ethical, of the 
 
 T- "■' "*"' 1" ■« "■' — " ' Send a thousand 
 ^^ out over the bo^n. of the b™.d Atlantic 
 wthout a «,n>p.ss, and where will they land? 
 TWn a hundred thou^d children into the world 
 
 ^. w. hout definite knowledge of the Infinite 
 B«ng w„h t „„^ ^^^.^^ ^^^ Jte 
 
 a^dwha wUl bec„„,e of a nation? Hurl millionJ 
 of boob ,nto your million, of home, to spread n,o«l 
 and mtellectual lep™,y, without a stjg handa^ 
 a stronger mmd to contK,l them, and what w^ 
 become of the faith and mo^Kty of the people ? 
 
 Ill the presence of these terrific dangera-I am 
 ^peabng to-night in the interests of thf libran^ 
 ^Rom«, Index, an institution that contmis the 
 leading, that gives direction to the thoughts and 
 sent^en^ and prot^ «>' »"* ""il Ln.o, 
 two hundred and fifty millions of our i^ce. is one o 
 he greatest saf^arf, „, .t, „^^^ ,; ^j' 
 
 lectual and moral defilement that was ever Z- 
 ceived by the mind of men. 
 
 "BeKeve m-, ladies and genUemen, when this 
 ^ of ou« ceases to be a human abode, when the 
 iustoiy of man on our planet ends, when the Great 
 
 114 
 
Causes a Sensation 
 
 Master comes to sum up results, there wiU be many 
 surprises in store for us. But I fear not to say that 
 when that dread moment comes, we shall find that 
 the Roman Church, with her unity of thought and 
 direction, was the only rational agency ever devised 
 to direct the minds of men, an agency that had its 
 mception in the mind of God." 
 
 The orator retired to his seat amid tumultuous 
 applause. Never did Laurenboro hear such elo- 
 quence, or so many truths so forcibly put. Even the 
 Jewells in Box K clapped their hands. 
 
 Father Sinclair, Melgrove, and the rest of the 
 Orgamzing Committee went on to the stage and 
 shook the hand of the lecturer, who was wiping 
 the perspiration from his brow. 
 
 "Congratulations, Professor! Masterly effort I" 
 broke in the half-dozen voices. 
 
 "Thank you, gentlemen, thank you." replied 
 the orator, m a matter-of-fact way. 
 
 "We shall have the pleasure of hearing you 
 agam?" asked Father Sinclair. 
 
 "Kindly communicate with the Flume Lecture 
 Bureau, Irving Square, New York," answered the 
 Professor, who, rising to his feet, continued, "You 
 will excuse me, gentlemen.-I must catch the night 
 train. I lecture west of the Rockies on Thursday 
 
 next. So I shall say a« ret;ot>.» And the Professor 
 was gone. 
 
 115 
 
A Professional Lecturer 
 
 The business-like tone of these remarks came 
 like a cold clap to Father Sinclair, and told him, 
 then and there, that he was having to do with a 
 professional lecturer at so much a night. But no 
 matter; some solid truths had been sent home. 
 The lecture would do good. 
 
 Next day, Melgrove handed the astonished pastor 
 an eighteen-himdred dollar cheque for the Lauren- 
 boro Library. 
 
 "Melgrove, you are a bom impresario. I thank 
 you, and congratulate you on your success." 
 
 "It's the knowing how to go about it. Father. 
 Advertise. Get the people interested, and the 
 victory is yours. And we intend to follow up our 
 success. In to-night's Times there will be an elab- 
 orate report of the lecture. To-morrow the whole 
 town will be discussing the Roman Index, non- 
 sectarianism, et cetera. Burton promised me that 
 the lecture should also go into the weekly edition; 
 in that way the whole country will learn something 
 about the Church and her way of doing things. 
 I must be off home. Mrs. Melgrove could not come 
 last night. Our Uttle Helen is ill, and we are quite 
 anxious." 
 
 Evidently the popularity of the Free Library was 
 
 growing. Two thousand four hundred dollars 
 
 would bring in a first instalment of books. Father 
 
 Sinclair went to his study to write invitations to a 
 
 116 
 
Catises a Sensation 
 
 few ladies to meet at the glebe-housc the day follow- 
 ing. He had secured eataloguec from the various 
 publishers, and he needed aid in making a selection 
 He recoiled from the task for various reasons. 
 His own studies had thrown him out of the beaten 
 track. He was a great reader and devoured works 
 of philosophy and the sciences as soon as they ap- 
 peared: he wa ed to know what men were thinking 
 about in the worid. But fiction, with the exception 
 of the old standard authors, which eveiybody reads, 
 « quite an unknown world to him. 
 
 A perusal of the catalogues made this still more 
 evident. He plodded through page after page of 
 unfamiliar names. He glanced at the titles of thou- 
 sands of books he had never heard of before, and he 
 marvelled at the activity of the human mind. He 
 counted the pages of titles and names, and found 
 twenty of fiction to one of science or philosophy. 
 Was this a good criterion of the trend of modern 
 mtellectual tastes ? 
 
 "I am surely becoming an old fogey, or the worid 
 
 IS getting ahead of me," he mused, as the pages of 
 
 the catalogues were passing through his fingers- 
 
 not one of my favorite autho,^, except Thackeray.' 
 
 IS to be found in these lists." 
 
 The worid had not gone ahead of him; it had 
 simply deviated a few degrees from its former 
 course. This was the Age of Fiction~a discovery 
 
A Professional Lecturer 
 
 Father Sinclair had made in the course of a few 
 hours. 
 
 The following afternoon a coterie of ladies came 
 and began the work of choosing the books for the 
 new Library. The quickest way was to check off 
 t^° names on the catalogues, and then send these to 
 their respective publishers. When there was a 
 doubt as to the author's spirit, he was passed over 
 with a query. Father Sinclair reserved to himself 
 the selection of the more serious works which he 
 purposed adding to the Library. 
 
 " Father, your serious works will never be called 
 for," ventured Miss Garvey, who had been named 
 Chief Librarian of the new institution. " I fear you 
 will regret the outlay. Free libraries nowadays are 
 fiction libraries; and people do not read heavy books." 
 
 The little lady was speaking out of the fulness of 
 five years' experience in the Humboldt; but this v.as 
 a novel point of view for the pastor. 
 
 "Would it not rather be better to double some of 
 the popular authors for the first instalment, and let 
 the serious works wait till later?" she asked. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that people read nothing 
 serious nowadays?" he repUed. 
 
 " Not when there is a novel in the house. Father." 
 
 "Do you want me to believe. Miss Garvey, that 
 
 people would give over a solid book of history or 
 
 biography for a silly love-tale?" 
 
 118 
 
Causes a Sensation 
 
 "Precisely; eveiy time." returned Miss Garvey 
 And the other girls laughed. 
 
 "Decidedly. I have slipped a few cogs. Why in 
 my time. Scott. Thackemy. Dickens, and a few 
 others, were all we read." 
 
 "But that was a long time " Miss Garvey 
 
 srmhng, checked herself. She was on the verge of 
 making a tremendous slip. 
 
 "What a dreadful girl you are!" exclaimed the 
 othei^. when the pastor had gone. "What will 
 
 thilfh *,f ^ "^ ^°" ' Y°" ^-^ -«de him 
 
 tnmk he is an old man." 
 
 Father Smclair himself admits that he knows pj- 
 ^cally httle about modem fiction. How could he? 
 He has something else to do besides reading trash. 
 Ladies I was five years in the Humboldt, and I 
 know that half the novels published are trash, pure 
 and simple-and you know it too. The dialogue 
 IS insipid; the descriptions are stilted and unreal. 
 Novels give false views of life, develop morbid tastes. 
 put sentiment above reason, just as the lecturer said 
 the other night. I read novels then, because it was 
 my livelihood, and I know whereof I speak. But 
 people wiU read, and we must provide them with 
 he least unwholesome food we can find. I con- 
 fess the drecise value of the Roman Index nev« 
 flashed on my mind so vividly as when Profes- 
 
 119 
 
\\ 
 
 The Professional Lecturer 
 
 sor Flume described its workings and its results." 
 Meanwhile the checking was completed and twelve 
 hundred volumes were ordered. In a few days 
 they were in the large hall adjoining the church 
 ready to be unboxed, revised, numbered, set in their 
 places on the shelves, and tlicn thrown into circula- 
 tion. The Revising Committee began their laborious 
 work of reading and criticising every volume. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Fountain in Blenheim Square 
 
 nnHE days were passing. The second heaA^ fall 
 ■■■ of snow had come, and had thrown another 
 mantle of white over the whole city of Laurenboro. 
 The merry jingle of sleigh-bells filled the frosty air, 
 as the aristocracy of the West End flitted along 
 Ashbume Avenue every afternoon in their robes of 
 fur. 
 
 In striking contrast with this luxury of display 
 was the condition of the poor in the lower parts of 
 the city. The closing down of the large iron-mills, 
 owing to an over-stocked market the directors said, 
 and the early setting in of the winter, threatened to 
 bear heavily on the poorer quarters. Gottingen 
 Ward would feel the want of food and clothing; and 
 Father Sinclair, with a heart that went out to the 
 poor, was taking his precautions to be able to cope 
 with their appeals of relief. He called on the Ladies 
 of Charity to meet on Wednesdays to begin their 
 winter's work. 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove, whose name was held in venera- 
 tion among the poorer families of the Gottingen 
 
The Fotmtain 
 
 
 district, had been his ablest assistant in the work of 
 the Association; but he received a note just before 
 the meeting which informed him that she could not 
 lie present owing to the illness of her little daughter. 
 
 Miss Garvey presided at this first meeting, which 
 was held at the glebe-house; and the ladies present 
 had just ended their deliberations when a heavy pull 
 at the doorbell diew the attention of the pastor. 
 
 " There's a gentleman here that wants to see your 
 Reverence," said Nanny, poking her head into the 
 meeting-room. Before Father Sinclair could rise to 
 go, the door opened, and Silas Maglundy walked in. 
 
 " Mr. Maglundy, I declare," exclaimed the pastor. 
 "Ladies, let me introduce Mr. Maglundy, one of 
 our new arrivals in Laurenboro. This is Miss 
 Garvey, our acting president, and these are her 
 assistants." 
 
 " Miss Garvey," said Mr. Maglundy, very nervous, 
 apparently, in the presence of ladies, but trying to 
 be amiable; "I think we met before. Did I not 
 help you along in some good work you were inter- 
 ested in a few days ago? I thought I recognized 
 your face." 
 
 Miss Garvey quietly answered, " The new library, 
 sir." She was djing to say more — ^to tell him that 
 he had bought only one ticket. 
 
 " Ladies," interposed the pastor, " Mr. Maglundy 
 
 is the gentleman whose name has appeared in the 
 
 Hi 
 
In Bletiheim Square 
 
 Times so often lately in connection with the new 
 fountain in Blenheim Square." 
 
 "Yes, Father; we read about it," answered Miss 
 Garvey. " We have heard that it is going to be a 
 work of art." 
 
 "I trust it will be appreciated by the people of 
 Laurenboro," added the old man. "It has given 
 me a great deal of thought, how I could be of use to 
 my fellow-citizens. One likes to be of some little 
 use in this world, you know." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said Miss Garvey, who was 
 spokeswoman for the assembly. "Drinking-water 
 is such a blessing." 
 She looked at Father Sinclair as she spoke. 
 "We are here this evening," ventured the pastor, 
 "in the interests of the poor of Laurenboro, We 
 are going to have a great many indigent families 
 with us this winter." 
 " O yes, the poor," sighed Mr. Maglundy. " That 
 
 was one of my reasons for thinking of a fountain " 
 
 "Not the chief one," thought Miss Garvey. 
 
 " and I feel that every time they drink they 
 
 will think of the old man who thought of them." 
 
 "That's just it!" mused the little lady to herself, 
 who was by this time thinking fiercely. The farce 
 was being prolonged beyond measure, and the 
 ladies quietly departed to begin the following day 
 their work of collecting for the poor. 
 
 ha 
 
The Fountain 
 
 >i> 
 
 "Will you come upstairs?" the pastor asked the 
 millionaire when the ladies had left. 
 
 They were soon seated in the study where Father 
 Sinclair's leisure moments were mostly spent. The 
 four walls were covered with books, the only real 
 companions of his life; his personal friends .standing 
 side by side on their wooden thoroughfares in the* 
 silent city; friends, cold and inert, and with many 
 a worm, perhaps, gnawing at their vitals, but whose 
 souls, still pregnant with thought und beauty, yielded 
 up their treasures at his bidding. A " poets' comer" 
 stood near the door, with the Bard of Avon looking 
 down from h' ■ frame. Beside it, the "Lives" of 
 a few men whc.c lives were worth recording. Else- 
 where, hundreds of volumes of theology, philosophy, 
 and other branches of human learning. On a 
 throne of honor over the mantelpiece, and bound in 
 purple — emblematic of their place in Father Sin- 
 clair's esteem — stood the works of Aquinas. It was in 
 thb room and with this companionship that the pastor 
 composed his sermons, wrote his letters^ formed his 
 plans, and now and then entertained his friends. 
 
 " Fawther," began Mr. Maglundy, who was soon 
 made to feel at home by the genial priest, "I have 
 come to-night to ask a little service of you in the 
 matter of the fountain. The workmen are now 
 putting it in position, and in a few days it will be 
 formally handed over to the citizens of I^urenboro. 
 
In Blenheim Square 
 
 No doubt I shall have to address a few words to the 
 public assembled on that occasion. I have cudgelled 
 my brains for something to say, and I can find 
 nothing there. I have steyed awake for the past 
 two nights, and still nothing has come." 
 
 "I trust you are not going to ask me to make a 
 speech?" nervously ventured Father Sinclair. 
 
 "No, Fawther. I should like to make the speech 
 myself. But u,ight I ask you to write it for me.' 
 A few ideas, you know, in language appropriate for 
 the occasion. And written plamly." 
 
 "I will do that for you, Mr. Maglundy, with 
 pleasure. Do you want it now, or shaU I mail it 
 to you?" 
 
 "O thank you, Fawther, just drop it into the box. 
 The carrier will leave it at my residence. I am 
 getting quite anxious; for I teel that the occasion 
 will be one of great importance." 
 Maglundy was rising to go. 
 
 "By the way," interrupted Father Sinclair, "You 
 mentioned, in your note the other evening, that you 
 had changed the inscription a bit." 
 
 "Yes; a friend called, and he suggested a slight 
 change which pleased me very much." The visitor 
 pulled a document from his pocket and opened it. 
 "The inscription will now read, 
 
 OONVM SILVM MAGLVNOIVM. 
 Ii6 
 
The Fountain 
 
 The M'u will imitate the gentle miming of the cow, 
 you know. When you hear the words repeated, you 
 almost hear the voice of the peaceful brute whose 
 glassy eyes " 
 
 " I am sorry you did such a thing," broke in thi- 
 pastor, hotly; "that is not I^tin. Is the tablet cast 
 yet?" 
 
 "Yes, Fawther, the tablet is cast, and the con- 
 tractors are putting it in position. I trust you will 
 be able to come to the formal presentation." And 
 bidding the pastor good night, Mr. Maglundy dis- 
 appeared in the darkness. 
 
 "I certainly will not go," muttered the priest. 
 "That man will disgrace himself; he is going to 
 make a '.aughing-stock of himself. But his pride Is 
 insufferable; let it have a come-down." 
 
 Maglundy had not reached the first comer when 
 a scruple came to Father Sinclair. Was it not his 
 duty to prevent the man from making a fool of 
 himself? Was he not cooperating in a «1ishonornble 
 work in writing a speech for such an occasion? 
 Should he not try to keep that man from flaunting 
 his ignorance and bad taste in the face of the public ? 
 Besides, he had the interests of Laurenboro at heart, 
 and her good name. What would strangers and 
 tourists say when they passed through Blenheim 
 Square and saw a cow and calf reposing in the 
 middle of a basin of water? Laurenboro would be 
 
In Blenheim Square 
 
 the talk of the continent; he had half a mui<l to drop 
 Maglundy a note to tell him that he could not cany 
 out his promise. 
 
 However, there was a way out of it. The fountain 
 would not play this winter at any rate; and some 
 one might open Maglundy 's eyes fufore .spritigfinie. 
 to the mistakes in the Utin inscription, and to the 
 incongruity of the whole thinjr. So he wrote the 
 speech and mailed it. 
 
 During the three days preceding the dedication, 
 the Tivies had long articles on the new work of art 
 that was soon to grace Blenheim Square. The story- 
 of the donor's life was told, his early struggles, 
 his mining career, his successes in Tran.s-Siberian 
 stocks, his arrival in Laurenhoro. his princely 
 mansion, etc. But some one must have given the 
 tip to Burton, or he may have caught a glimpse of 
 the cow and the inscription ; for the tone of the paper 
 suddenly changed. Father Sinclair could detect the 
 sarcasm of it all; and .so could the other readers, 
 when the day before the ceremony. Burton pub- 
 lished his double-leaded article on " The Cow's Role 
 in Art," with his two subheadings, "The Cow in 
 Classics," and "The Cow in Grammar." 
 
 "I suppose you will be at the demonstration this 
 afternoon?" asked Burton, when he met the priest 
 at the post-office that morm'ng. 
 
 "I don't think so," he replied, with a smile. 
 
 187 
 
The Fountain 
 
 "Wait till you see the Times to-morrow. The 
 ignorance of that upstart, because he lias a few- 
 hundred thousand dollars, to try to impose a mon- 
 strosity like that on this town!" 
 
 "There is some foundation for your remark," 
 replied the pastor; " but do not be too hard on him. 
 Some one will open his eyes one of these days." 
 
 "That was a brilliant lecture we had at the Or- 
 pheon," interrupted Burton, changing the subject. 
 "Professor Flume opened my eyes to some things 
 that I did not know before. There are still a few 
 details that are not (juite clear to me regarding the 
 Roman Index. Will you allow me to call one of 
 these evenings?" 
 
 "Shall we say to-mght.^" asked the pastor. 
 
 "Not to-night. I shall be occupied with Ma- 
 glundy's cow. I want to get it into to-morrow's 
 paper. Let us say Thursday, at seven." 
 
 And while the editor passed out to the street. 
 Father Sinclair opened the mail-box. 
 
 A letter was awaiting him from the Archbishop, 
 asking him if he could find room in the parish for 
 half a dozen Little Sisters of the Poor, exiled from 
 France, who would land in Laurenboro in a few 
 weeks. 
 
 " I will make room," muttered the priest, who had 
 
 been following wiih feelings of intense horror the 
 
 phases of the odious persecution that was driving 
 
 128 
 
In Blenheim Square 
 
 thousands of God's chosen souls out of the fair field 
 of France. " I'll find room for '.ose Little Sisters." 
 he continued, "and I am ^ leaded Sha thev are 
 coming. Thev will show .r.e of ou. gos;amer 
 society people what saerific- ..a h> made for the 
 raith. 
 
 Father Sinclair set about this pressing work just 
 as soon as he returned to the glebe-house. Where 
 were the exiles to be lodged.^ He had several 
 bui dings m new. There was tlu.t large one on 
 Welhngton Avenue, vacant for over a year It 
 belonged to the Newells; and hero was an oppor- 
 tunity for Kenneth Newell to do an act of charity 
 Father Sinclair immediatel; wrote him a polite note 
 detaihng as frankly as possible the pitiful situation of 
 the exiles and reminding him that a cup of cold water 
 given m charity would receive its reward in heaven 
 It was a gentle hint that the use of the building 
 should be given free to the Little Sisters, at least 
 temporarily. If Newell had any manhood left, he 
 could not turn a deaf car to this pleading in favor of 
 half a dozen women consecrated to God and His 
 poor. The pastor had consulted his own heart in 
 the wording, but after the letter was dropped into 
 the box he thought that perhaps he should have been 
 a httle more reserved in asking favors from a man of 
 the Newell stamp. After all, it was the whole truth 
 and he did not regret what he had written. 
 
 129 
 
The Fountain 
 
 The dedication of the fountain in Blenheim Square 
 was fixed for three o'clock. Promptly at that hour 
 Maglundy, the Mayor, and several of the aldermen 
 stepped upon the platform raised before an object 
 hidden under a white canvas, and lying, as it were, 
 on a hillock in the basin of ice. The Square was 
 crowded with people; and expectant faces filled all 
 the windows, many of which were thrown open in 
 spite of the cold. 
 
 Maglundy, rising, began to say something. A 
 shrill voice heard over Blenheim Square shouted — 
 
 "A little louder Mr. Maglundy; we cannot hear 
 you!" 
 
 The speaker suddenly stopped; his face grew red; 
 his fingers twitched; his eyes gazed at nothing; the 
 words would not come — ^the old miner was stage- 
 struck. Mayor Bruce and the aldermen grew 
 nervous. Maglundy opened his coat to get his 
 speech; but it was not in his pocket. He had left 
 it on his desk. 
 
 There was no remedy; so the millionaire ended the 
 agony of suspense by jerking at the cord which was 
 near his hand. The canvas parted, and revealed to 
 the cheering throng a cow recumbent on a bronze 
 mound in ice, looking with affection at a frisky calf 
 beside her. The chief workman then cried: " Turn 
 on the water"; but the pipes were frozen as hard 
 as adamant. 
 
 ISO 
 
^ Blei heim Square 
 
 Maglund/s role being over, the Mayor stood ud 
 
 pr.:^; "r^ '''-' '^ '-^^^^ the'spmrw j^ 
 
 prompted such acts of public generosity— 
 
 ■Ine donor i. jwed. 
 
 7--«nd predicted that as long as the noble 
 an.n^_here present, one of n^nT ^., ]^ 
 
 Maglundy bowed again. 
 
 —should lie chewing her cud on her hillock 
 
 The donor shook hands with the Mayor and the 
 aldennen. He had by this time completely regained 
 h. composure; and feeling elated over the MWs 
 
 andt M .f T' "*° ^^ ^^*^^^^' -*^ great dign^ 
 and told the driver to head for home 
 
 The throng lingered, su > ast the few police- 
 men, and crowded up to tl ^ ^ 
 
 J ° Xf ■="• '""" "' -^ -^''■" ^'•o*'- one ., 
 ;;Mo<ww, 0^!" vociferated a dozen more. 
 Maglundy . co»!" exclaimed . number yt on- 
 lookers, simultaneously. 
 
 Thai settled it. The fountain was dutbed once 
 and forever. And the Laurenbo™ cab-driversTad 
 one more o^ect of interest to point out to .h^l^' 
 
 The crowd then quickly diapered, all in the W 
 ofhumo^ll with theexceptionofalittlelean JT 
 
 f 
 
The Fountain 
 
 with spectacles and long hair. Professor Catow, of 
 Royalview University. 
 
 Catow had a literary fad, and that was the study 
 of epigraphs. He had been for years an active 
 member of the Academy of Inscriptions. The old 
 Roman lapidary style, he said, appealed to him. 
 In a letter to the Times, during his tour in Europe, 
 he wrote that he had spent half a day contemplating 
 the symmetry of the lettering on the Arch of Constan- 
 tine. It was admitted by everybody that he had the 
 finest collection of epigraphs in Laurenboro. 
 
 Nearsighted, he got as close as possible, and began 
 to read the tablet on the Maglundy fountain. He 
 read it once; then again. Then taking off his spec- 
 tacles, he wiped them well and took another look. 
 
 "Shades of the Romans!" he exclaimed. "Do 
 mine eyes deceive me.' What does this mean?" 
 
 And he read aloud — Donum Silum Maglundium. 
 
 He evidently took the inscription seriously, for he 
 drew out his note-book and pencil and copied it. 
 
 The next day a letter appeared in the Times: 
 
 To the Editor: 
 
 Has not the carver made a slight error in his 
 grammar in the inscription on the fountain unveiled 
 yesterday? What is his authority for the absence of 
 the genitive case in the words of the name ? 
 Yours, 
 
 HosACE Virgil Catow, A. M. 
 
 The Royalvi»w professor should have waited 
 
 182 
 
In Blenheim Square 
 
 ^e .ssue of the Times that night. Never in the 
 tustojy of Laurenboro did a man get such a scorchi,^ 
 Bs Maglundy got from the editor, not morelv for 
 his want of taste in the selection of a figure for a 
 public fountain, but for his unwarrantable pride in 
 foisting a three-thousand-dollar horror on Lauren- 
 
 Ward penshmg for want of food and fuel. 
 
 >.ij' 
 
 138 
 
if 
 
H 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Father Sinclair Begms to Operate on an Editor 
 
 ' ' hV^ ^"^ ^^'^' '^^'^"'* ^^" ««^«^ Burton, 
 when he entered the pastor's study, the 
 next evening at seven. 
 
 "You certainly hit him hard," replied Father 
 Sinclair. 'But I fear his epiderm is proof against 
 your prose. I shall soon learn how he has taken it 
 for he IS sure to call." 
 
 "xNow, Father, let us drop Maglundy. I have 
 been after him for three days. The object of my 
 visit here to-night, as I told you. is to get further 
 ducid^ion on the Roman Index that Professor 
 Urnn-Flume went into raptures over. You know 
 the Ideas we Protestants have about that institution." 
 
 Know them root and branch," rejoined the 
 pastor. 
 
 'Is it true that you do not allow your people to 
 read any books they have a mind to ? " 
 "That is true." 
 
 "And what is the reason of the prohibition ? " 
 The same reason that our civil government has 
 for preventing the pubhcation and propagation of 
 anarchist literature." rephed Father Sinclair, qu-ckly ; 
 
 
Father Sinclair Begins 
 
 Mi 
 
 " the same reason why you would not allow demoral- 
 izing books or pictures into your home; the very 
 same reason why you yourself advocated so strongly 
 last year more stringent quarantine laws." 
 
 That kind of logic appealed to Burton, who con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "But I do not see the application in matters of 
 religion, wherein men may use their own judg- 
 ment." 
 
 "Well, I'll show you, if you will allow me. There 
 are matters of religJon in which people are not 
 capable of using their judgment. Let us take the 
 question before us. There is no diflBculty about the 
 forbidding of books dangerous to morals; people 
 are pretty -veil agreed on that point. It is against 
 the natural law even for pagans to steep their 
 minds in such literature. 
 
 " In questions of doctrine, we do not admit your 
 
 theory of private judgment. *He who does not hear 
 
 the Church'— you know the rest. The Catholic 
 
 Church, being the sole depository of the truths 
 
 which Christ revealed while He was here on earth, 
 
 she alone has the right to say what is revelation and 
 
 what is not; what should be taught and what not. 
 
 If the Church discovers a work that falsifies these 
 
 doctrines or tries to undermine belief in them, she 
 
 who has the responsibility of souls, very properly 
 
 puts a ban on it. She simply prevents her children 
 
 1S6 
 
11 
 
 i I 
 
 To Operate on an Editor 
 
 from reading it. Is not everything reasonable so 
 
 ar ? " asked Father Sinclair. 
 
 "But how can the Church make .such a claim 
 that she alone has the privilege of holding the 
 revealed truths.'" 
 
 "One thing at a time Burton. That is another 
 question, which is proved by means of arguments 
 which are just as convincing. But are you beginning 
 to appreciate the logic that captivated Professor 
 Flume.*" 
 
 " I am undoubtedly. I have always admired the 
 Catholic Church for her consistency in thought and 
 action." 
 
 "And that consistency, Burton, comes from the 
 conviction that she alone is the Church of Christ; 
 that the Divine Saviour did not found six hundred 
 Churches, as we see to-day teaching contradictory 
 doctrines, nor five, nor two, but only one. Truth 
 is one, and only the whole truth is one. Here is a 
 little work which explains the logic of the Church in 
 her system of doctrine, morality, and discipline. 
 Read it carefully and let me hear your objections." 
 
 Suiting the action to the words. Father Sinclair 
 handed him a small volume, to which he quickly 
 added others from his well-stocked library of con- 
 troversial literature. 
 
 "Outside the Catholic Church," he continued, 
 "men using their private judgment may read what 
 
 187 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 Father Sinclair Begins 
 
 they please and believe what they please. Few 
 minds are sufficiently well trained to recognize 
 error in all its forms, especially when it is served up 
 in an attractive style. What is the result? Not 
 being able to discern the wheat from the chaff, 
 they are ensnared by the sophistries of clever writers. 
 They have no grounding in sound philosophy or 
 theology, without which human thought runs wild." 
 
 This was all new to Burton. 
 
 " "^^w my object in establishing a Catholic library 
 in Laurenboro is to prevent our own people, who are 
 not sufficiently educated, not merely from being 
 imbued with ideas that might lower their morals, 
 but from assimilating Uctrines that are false. 
 Lord Bacon once said tiiat if he were allowed to 
 control the literature of the household, he would 
 guarantee the well-being of Church and State. The 
 Church fully recognizes the tremendous influence 
 books and reading have on the plastic minds of 
 youth. More depends on the kind of food a growing 
 mind takes in for its regular diet than on the nature 
 of the food hat nourishes the body. 
 
 "leaving aside the damaging effects of mere 
 
 desultory reading on individuality of character, is 
 
 it not a fact. Burton, that the topics treated with 
 
 such a show of learning in modem writings are 
 
 debasing in the extreme ? To cite an instance. Are 
 
 not the problems discussed in nine-tenths of the 
 
 188 
 
To Operate on an Ecfttor 
 
 works on the shelves of our pubhr hbraries merely 
 developments of the sordid difficulties of the life of 
 man as an animal-difficulties that are not problem, 
 at all. and with the solution of which, at least as far 
 as theory goes, no right-minded man has any trouble ? 
 Think of the oceans of such literature that are flood- 
 ing our country, and realize how imminent is the 
 danger. 
 
 "The same reasoning holds good in the realm of 
 doctrine. If we had no knowledge of the truth; 
 if we had still to grope in the dark for the solution 
 of what men might please to call the Enigma of Life 
 and its hereafter; if religion were something still 
 hazy and undefined, and not a positive science that 
 may be studied like any other branch of human 
 learmng, then there might be a reason for the 
 wanderings and searchings of our age. Every shred 
 of tru**- -ight well be grasped at to help in the un- 
 ravem..^^ A the great human problem. But all this 
 has been done for us by God Himself, when He 
 revealed to us what we should believe, and how we 
 should act. What need is there to waste time in 
 looking further?" 
 
 Burton sat reflecting. He followed Father Sin- 
 clair with intense interest. 
 
 " We have just received twelve hundred volumes " 
 continued the pastor, "from various publishiiJg 
 houses. Do you suppose that they are to be num. 
 
 139 
 
 t: 
 
 \U 
 
1 
 
 Father Sinclair Begins 
 
 bered and put into circulation at once? Nu, sir; 
 before they are put on the shelves every one will be 
 carefully read by a competent critic, and if found 
 unfit will be thrown aside. 
 
 " Now, let us turn to the Elzevir — not to mention 
 names. What guarantee has a parent that his 
 child's mind or heart shall not be corrupted by the 
 books he gets there ? Truth and error, books good 
 and bad, uplifting and debasing, arc flung over the 
 counter to anybmly and everybody. The other day 
 I caught in the hands of one of my young men a work 
 by the infamous Renan, taken from the Elzevir. 
 Such a thing would be impossible with us. The 
 Congregation of the Index puts a check on us Cath- 
 olics throughout the world. It tells us what wc may 
 not read without danger to our souls. Is this 
 restricting our liberty.' Is it restricting the liberty 
 of a blind man to snatch the cup of poison from his 
 lips, or to prevent him from walking over a mountain 
 cliff? The Roman Index points out what is hurtful 
 to faith or morals; tells us, for instance, that such a 
 book or such an author swerves considerably from 
 the path of truth, and then with the authority of the 
 Church behind it forbids Catholics to read it." 
 
 "But does the Roman Index read all the books 
 
 that are published," inquired the editor, "to know 
 
 which are good and which are bad?" 
 
 " Not necessarily. Whenever a bad book appears 
 
 140 
 
To Operate on an Editor 
 
 in any country, it in soon brouRht to the noUce of 
 the clergy and their bishops. These notify the 
 Congregation of the Index, and a decree is issued 
 prohibiting Catholics from reading the work untii 
 the author submits himself to tho teaching of the 
 Church, and makes amends by correcting his errors." 
 "Thank you; this conversation has opened up a 
 new horizon to me." 
 
 "Mr. Burton, you appear to me to be a fair- 
 mmded man. I wish you would look into the claims 
 of the CathoUc Church a little farther. You would 
 find much to interest you. and perhaps a little 
 mstruction. I shall be happy to unravel any knotty 
 pomts that may spring up." 
 
 The editor left him. brimful of ideas. A new 
 world had been revealed to Burton. We shall see 
 later with what results. 
 
 It was with men of this stamp that Father Sinclair 
 was at his best; and he took pains to attract them. 
 Already in Laurenboro. through his tactful man- 
 oeuvering. aided by God's grace, eight or ten of its 
 professional men had had their eyes opened to the 
 truths and beauties of the Catholic Church and were 
 now among the most fervent of his flock. His Lenten 
 course of controversial lectures always brought to 
 St. Paul's an unusual gathering from the various 
 denominations. Father Sinclair detested error, 
 but like a true pastor of souls he sympathized with 
 
 141 
 
Father Sinclair Begins 
 
 
 
 and loved the erring and sought on all occasions to 
 enlighten them. The new library might become a 
 powerful lever in his hands, and that was the chief 
 reason — notwithstanding Miss Garvey's objections 
 — why he was going to set apart a section to be 
 devoted exclusively to controversial and dogmatic 
 literature. 
 
 As he and Burton had surmised, the article in the 
 Times on the dedioation of the fountain deeply 
 wounded the feelings of Silas Maglundy. The old 
 man came the very next day to the glebe-house to 
 unburden himself of his grievances. He found the 
 genial pastor in his study. 
 
 "I suppose, Fawther, you perused the Times' 
 account of the dedication of my monument?" he 
 inquired, when both were seated. 
 
 " I glanced over it," replied the pastor. 
 
 "Is it not disgraceful that men will employ their 
 talents to vilify the actions and misconstrue the 
 motives of their fellow-men ? It has simply crushed 
 me. It was my most eaniest desire to be of some use 
 to the citizens among whom I have come to live; 
 and here I am held up to all Laurenboro as the 
 Airiest upstart." 
 
 Maglundy displayed deep feeling. 
 
 "I have a good notion to send back the Times; 
 
 formally refuse it, sir, when it reaches my residence." 
 
 "What a catastrophe is in store for Burton — or 
 
 142 
 
To Operate on an Editof 
 
 for his little newsboy!" thought Father Sinclair. 
 
 "The base ingratitude! And what did that 
 nincompoop from the Univereity want to know about 
 the inscription?" 
 
 "As to that. Mr. Maglundy." said the pastor, 
 calmly, «I told you that the change was wrong. 
 The Latin language has fixed rules; that is one of 
 the results of its being a dead language. It does not 
 
 change. Now, Professor Catow knows Latin. And 
 there you are." 
 
 •• But what matters a letter at the end of a name ?" 
 "It matters so much that the inscription is no 
 longer Latin." 
 
 " Well, I must have it changec' But I feel pained 
 at the Times, and I thank you for your sympathy." 
 
 Father Sinclair had not given him much sympathy 
 in this interview, but it was evident that he was 
 gaining the confidence of the old man. The little 
 milUonaire had shown this since they first met. 
 The pastor felt it also; and he asked himself, as he 
 sat there Ustening to his woes, if it were not possible 
 to break in somewhere through that crust of pride, 
 and bring Maglundy to a sense of his duty. The 
 old man's heart was in the right place, evidently; but 
 he was densely ignorant. And his false ideas of his 
 duties and privileges as a citizen had their source in 
 this ignorance. 
 
 It was rather a deacate task to raise the \ie& just 
 
 148 ' 
 
Father Smclaxr Besfins 
 
 yet. The pastor of souls felt that he should have to 
 wait a little longer. The time would come when he 
 could speak more plainly. It was not the heart; 
 it was the head that needed touching up. But there 
 was one thing that he could not let ~ ass; the moment 
 seemed too favorable to be lost. 
 
 "You told me, the first time I called on you, that 
 you were a Catholic," ventured the pastor. 
 
 "Certainly, Fawther. You never doubted it, 
 surely ? " Maglundy looked surprised. 
 
 "No, I did not doubt it. I took your word for it. 
 I have no doubt that you are a Catholic at heart. 
 But there are certain external obligations that ac- 
 company our belief, that everyone expects Catholics 
 to fulfil " 
 
 "And what are they, pray?" asked Maglundy, 
 still surprised. 
 
 " Well, one is going to Mass on Sundays. It is a law 
 of the Church, which must be observed when possible." 
 
 "I believe you, Fawther." 
 
 " Now the prominent position you have acquired 
 in Laurenboro brings with it certain duties that you 
 cannot overlook." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 "People are so prone to judge the actions of 
 others " 
 
 "O, indeed," Maglundy sighed; "I have had 
 painful experience c^ that." 
 
 144 
 
To Operate on an Editor 
 
 "And when they see a man of your wealth and 
 influence"— Maglundy was moved— " claiming the 
 privileges of Church membership, and still neglecting 
 one of the essential duties, naturally they form their 
 opinions and — express them." 
 " Have people spoken of me to you ? " 
 "Certainly they have. I have had half a dozen 
 ask, 'Father, is Mr. Maglundy one of ours? We 
 never see him at Mass.' " 
 
 "I understand. All this is something I was not 
 aware of, and I am glad you have told me. Come 
 to think of it, you must De right. I can recaU some 
 of the sermons I heard when I was a wee boy. But 
 you know I have been away from churches and 
 chapels for the past forty years. Where I lived in 
 the mines, there was no church or priest to be seen." 
 "Do not think I am reproaching you, Mr. Ma- 
 glundy. I understand the circumstances of your 
 previous life, and I appreciate the difficulties you 
 have had to contend with. But circumstances have 
 changed. The difficulties have disappeared; noth- 
 ing but facilities remain; and your present obliga- 
 tions are what I desire to impress on you." 
 
 "Fawther, it is my intention to go to church 
 every Sunday henceforward. Are there any seats 
 to be had?" 
 "Certainly, sir." 
 
 Father Sinclair brought out a plan of the pews at 
 
 145 
 
 
 • t 
 
Father Sinclair Plans 
 
 St. Paul's and pointed out several unrented pews. 
 
 "Not too high up! Not too high up!" the old 
 miner exclaimed, while he drew the pastor's finger 
 down to the very bottom of the plan. 
 
 But the pews were all taken down there. Ma- 
 glundy had to be satisfied with the third from the 
 top. At Mass, he would find himself seated right in 
 front of Miss Garvey. 
 
 " How much am I to pay for this pew ?" 
 
 "The pew-reint is taken up quarterly," replied 
 the pastor. " Do not trouble yourself about that." 
 
 ii.'glundy shook the priest's hand warmly, and 
 left Lie glebe-house. 
 
 146 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Burton Assists at an "Auto da Fe" 
 
 JV/TEANWHILE the Revising Committee had 
 "■• been steadily plodding through the first in- 
 stalment of twelve hundred books. It was dreary 
 work and thankless. What author cares to see the 
 fruit of his pen nin through and through with an 
 electric searchlight ? How few could pass the ordeal 
 unscathed! And still it was necessary; truth re- 
 quired it; no writer may wantonly corrupt the mind 
 or the heart of a fellow-being; the interests of the 
 soul are too many and too grave. 
 
 The lesson had not yet gone home to many 
 authors, as the work of the Revising Committee 
 proved. Miss Garvey kept a record and found in 
 the twelve hundred: — 
 
 Positively unfit •» 
 
 Corrupting in tendency ^a 
 
 Sneers against the Catholic Church 50 
 
 Vilification of her clergy ai 
 
 Works on Free Thought 9 
 
 Expounding Mormonism « 
 
 False Views on Evolution U 
 
 The Church the Mother of Ignorance 15 
 
 Inculcating Christian Sdence in 
 
 Left to Father Sinclair's decision 70 
 
 147 
 
Burton Assists 
 
 The seventy awaiting the pastor's judgment were 
 piled up on a separate table. The others were 
 thrown into an obscure comer of the hall where 
 only a glimmering of light could reach them. There 
 they lay, two hundred of them, enemies of men's 
 minds and hearts. All that Art could do had been 
 done to hide the tactics of those criminals against 
 human society; but gaudy covers, gilt edges, elab- 
 orate illustrations, could not save them from the 
 fate that inevitably awaitec Lhem. 
 
 "I wonder whether our people will realize the 
 great benefits of this work of revision," said Father 
 Sinclair, coolly, when he entered the room and read 
 the list. "It is a good illustration of the need of a 
 library where we may let our young people go and 
 read without fear of corrupting their minds and 
 hearts. You see now, ladies, what we mean by 
 controlling the reading of the masses. Did they do 
 that kind of work at the Humboldt when you were 
 there. Miss Garvey ? Do they do it at the Elzevir ?" 
 
 "But look at all the books we must send back," 
 interrupted Clare Cayson. 
 
 Father Sinclair frowned. "Send back? To 
 
 continue their corrupting work in the minds of men ? 
 
 How many thousand readers would those two 
 
 hundred volumes have in the next two or three 
 
 years? We shall not send them back. They are 
 
 malefactors; and we shall put them where they will 
 
 148 
 
 VX 
 
At an '* Auto da Fc *' 
 
 do no harm. They must be destroyed. Ladies, 
 I invite you to an execution in the glebe-yard 
 to-morrow, at three." 
 
 The object-lesson was too good to let slip by, and 
 Burton was invited by telephone to call at the glebe- 
 house the following afternoon. 
 
 A dramatic scene presented itself in Father Sin- 
 clair's garden. The old sexton had placed three 
 lai^e flat stones on the hard snow. An armful of 
 kindhng wood was brought. Then the condemned 
 books were carefully opened and piled so that the 
 flames would take effect rapidly. 
 
 Burton entered and took in the situation at a 
 glance. 
 
 "Why, this is a repetition of the Spanish Inquisi- 
 tion," he exclaimed. 
 
 "The same principle is at the bottom of it, Mr. 
 Burton," replied the pastor; "with a difference, 
 however. We may bum books to prevent their 
 doing harm. They carry their oAvn errora with them 
 to the stake, and end there. But with men we may 
 reason. That is what our Church does; she tries 
 to convince them of their errors." 
 
 " And if they persist in them ?" urged Burton. 
 
 " If they teach error in books, we keep on doing with 
 the books what we are doing here. If men teach by 
 the Uving voice, we forbid our people to listen to 
 that voice. There is the whole thing in a nutshell " 
 
 149 
 
tr' 
 
 Bfirton Assists 
 
 "But did not the Church ever do with men what 
 you are doing with these books ?" insisted the editor. 
 
 "No, sir. That is a statement often made, but 
 without sufficient discrimination. There was a time 
 when men taught treason against civil as well as 
 ecclesiastical authoi ity , under plea of religion. These 
 men were tried and condemned, and the enemies of 
 the Church gave her the credit of the act. The 
 doctrine of the Church and her authoritative voice 
 are against the statement." 
 
 The truth was sinking gradually into the mind of 
 Burton; for Father Sinclair was gratified to read 
 the very next day in the Times a well-written and 
 rather convincing article on "Controlling Litera- 
 ture," the necessity of guarding the minds of 
 untaught men from error, and an attack, sharply 
 worded, on libraries that are lax in their censorship 
 of books. It was a plea, unwittingly made, for the 
 Roman Congregation of the Index, and an indirect 
 panegyric of the new Free Library about to be 
 opened in Laurenboro. 
 
 "Burton is progressing favorably," mused the 
 pastor, that evening, as he took up the paper; " but 
 he shall find rocks in his path before long. The 
 tone of his prose will not suit some of our citizens, 
 surely." 
 
 In this the pastor was right. Burton's article 
 
 let in a ray of light on the methods of one of the 
 
 150 
 
At an "Atrto da Fe 
 
 tt 
 
 most popular non-sectarian institutions in the city. 
 The article in the Times was a direct thrust at the 
 Elzevir, whose object— loudly proclaimed on eveiy 
 possible occasion— was the education of the public, 
 but whose covert work was proselytism pure and 
 simple. Hypocrisy ran rife there, and Burton 
 thought the time had come to let the public know it. 
 The effort, however, was going to create bitter 
 feelings. Even library directors do not like to see 
 their pet schemes frustrated; much less do they like 
 to see their weaknesses held up in the glare of the 
 public search-light. Pride and purse have too many 
 sacrifices to make on such occasions to render sub- 
 mission popular. 
 
 The pastor was about to drop a note to Burton, 
 to congratulate him on his articles, when the door- 
 bell rang; and before Nanny could get her white 
 apron adjusted, the editor himself came bounding 
 up the stairs. 
 
 "News for you. Father. The Elzevir people ai« 
 up in arms against the Times. Read this letter that 
 I have just received." 
 He handed the pastor the typewritten document. 
 To the Editor :— 
 
 The Directors of the Elzevir Library, in an assembly 
 held this morning, have asked me to write to you to 
 protest against the article in yesterday's edition of your 
 esteemed journal. They deem it inexpedient and 
 against the welfare of the city that the sentiments you 
 
 151 
 
 I 
 
', i 
 
 Btirton Assists 
 
 are r«poii«ible for in that article .hould become 
 curr«ituiLaurenboro. The /r«fer you menUon i. but 
 
 bndJes free thought, prevenbi men from expwing 
 their convictions in print to their fdlow-men ; md 
 furthermore it is the occasion of considerable pecuniarr 
 losses to those writers and publishers who gTtothe 
 wpense of prining and circuUting their wc rks. Why 
 should any Church tell people what they must or must 
 not read? This letter is not for publication, but 
 -imply a polite note addressed to one who is supposed 
 not merely to Reflect but also to mould public opini^ 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 R. Kenneth Newell. Jr., Secretary. 
 -NeweU!" exclaimed Father Sinclair. "That's 
 young Newell. When was he named to that 
 position?" 
 
 "Less than a month ago," answered the editor 
 Do you recall the letter his father sent to the Tima, 
 to protest against the new Library?" 
 
 The pastor looked amazed. 
 
 "That letter got the son the job." continued 
 Burton, "and two thousand doUare a year." 
 
 "The poltroons!" murmured the pastor, "who 
 would sell their souls and their principles for two 
 thousand a year." 
 
 "What answer should be made to this letter?" 
 asked the editor. 
 
 "It does not caU ,or any answer, does it ?' 
 Father Sinclair took up the letter again and looked 
 it over. 
 
At an " Auto da Fe " 
 
 ««i 
 
 •I shall have to acknowledge its receipt after 
 some fashion." 
 
 " I do not know what you ought to do; but for my 
 part I should simply reply, ' Receipt of yours of 
 yesterday acknowledged.' " 
 
 "That is what I shaU do. I consider that letter 
 a bit of impertinence on the part of the directors 
 of the Elzevir, and I shaU find occasion to teU them 
 so, in a short while. I know positively that they 
 have books in circulation that they would not let 
 their own chUdren read; and I am going to score 
 them for it." 
 
 "How are you advancing in the little volumes I 
 gave you the other night .^" asked Father Sinclair, 
 changing the subject. 
 
 "Getting on famously. The — ks of the true 
 Church, the infallibility of the Church, her inde- 
 fectibiUty, and so on— why. it is simple common 
 sense applied to religion. Assuming that Christ 
 established oniy one Church, the logic of your 
 position is simply overpowering." 
 
 'That's it," interrupted Father Sinclair. "And 
 if you admit that the Church cannot err, logic will 
 carry you still further. Burton. Listen. Seeing 
 that the Church cannot enr-I insist on 'cannot'— all 
 she teaches must be true. Is not that a fact ? " 
 "Undoubtedly, it is," admitted Burton. 
 "And if the Church teaches what is true, and 
 
 153 
 
 i 
 
Burton Aailits 
 
 truth is one. the innumerable sects, teaching con- 
 tradictoiy doctrines, must be teaching falsehood." 
 
 "There is no getting out of it," commented the 
 editor. 
 
 "And you belong to one of them ?" persisted the 
 pastor. 
 
 "I fear I am caught, Fati ov." 
 " Of course, you are caught. Once you admit the 
 infallible authority of the Church to teach, you must 
 Uiy down vour arms. " 
 
 "Uy down my arms!" exclaimed Burton. 
 "Whn* should I take up to replace them?" 
 
 -1 twopenny catechism, I fancy. You shaU have 
 occasion, one of these days, to witness the sacrifices 
 our people can make for the sake of the truth. At 
 this moment. Freemasonry is driving thousands of 
 nuns out of France. I had a letter from the Arch- 
 bishop asking me if I could find room for half a dozen 
 Little Sisters of the Poor, who are coming to Lauren- 
 boro to look after our aged and infirm." 
 
 "Freemasonry driving nuns out of France!" 
 Burton looked at the priest, apparently surprised. 
 Your are striking home. Father. I have been a 
 Mason for nearly twenty years, and my experience 
 of Masonry does not justify assertions of that kind." 
 " It is true just the same. Burton. The Masons in 
 France acknowledge it themselves. They no loncer 
 hide their designs." 
 
At an ** Atfto da Fe " 
 
 "There must be some delusion." replied the 
 editor, rather hotly; " Masonry has a record of good 
 deeds I would not belong to it were it otherwise." 
 I beheve you. Burton," broke in the pastor, 
 and I give you credit for that statement. You are 
 not the stamp of man whom they admit to their 
 inner councils. You are too frank a character to 
 beheve that what good is worth doing should be 
 done m the dark." 
 
 "This is a novel point of view for me, Father I 
 admit I was never a very enthusia.stic Mason. In 
 fact, I have practically dropped out of Masoniy 
 In my younger days. I joined for the sake of my 
 journalism; and I must confess my affiliation got me 
 many a 'scoop' for my paper." 
 
 "No doubt." answered Father Sinclair, "and 
 what induced you to join the Lodge moves nine out 
 of every ten of those who enter it. 'What is thei^ 
 m It for me?' is the question that is uppermost in 
 the imnd of most would-be Masons. But you did 
 not see then-and perhaps you do not see yet-that 
 theheads of the sect use the multitude to shield them 
 in thepursuitof aims which must bring about the de- 
 structaon of State and Churt^h. Believe me. Burton 
 Freemasonry, ir, its higher degr^s. is the concrete 
 expression of anarchy and revolution. It makes 
 ite recruits publicly, but it makes its plans in secret. 
 Its oath-bound conventions, its veUed commissions 
 
 155 
 
.fit." w 
 
 Bcfrton Assists 
 
 its initiation mummeries, indicate methods and aims 
 from which honest men must naturally shrink." 
 
 "You seem to know something about Masonry, 
 Father." 
 
 " More than you think, Burton. Even if I did not, 
 the fact that my Church condemns it would suflSce 
 for me. The test of her wide and long range of 
 experience stands in this case, as in others, as an 
 evidence and (bnfirmation of her infallible discern- 
 ment. But as a matter of fact, I have been studying 
 the Masonic problem for years, and I have a rather 
 large collection of works right here, treating of Dark- 
 Lantemism." 
 
 Father Sinclair pointed to a whole shelf full of 
 books devoted exclusively to the occult sect. 
 
 " The latest addition to my collection is Shaeffer's 
 MonitoricU Lectures, a work which has the practical 
 endorsement of several Grand Lodges in the United 
 States. I have been reading it carefully, and must 
 confess that I hardly expected to find in such a 
 narrow compass such a jumble of trash and mystical 
 vaporings, evidently suited to half-educated candi- 
 dates. How any man endowed with common sense 
 can stand blindfolded during his initiation and listen 
 to such prose, without splitting his sides, passes my 
 understanding." 
 
 Burton smiled. 
 
 *' Let me give you a taste of this new production 
 
At an ** Atito da Fe " 
 
 of your worshipful order." said the priest, who 
 opened the book and b^an to read: 
 
 Gwmetry the first and noblest of the sciences, is the 
 U«js on winch the superstructure of Freemasoir i! 
 erected. By Cxeometiy we may curiously trace nature 
 ^r^ h« vanous windings to her liost conS 
 recesses. By it we discover the power, wisdom nnrl 
 
 with dehght the proportions which connect this vast 
 machine. By it we discover bow the planets move in 
 their respotive orbits and demonstrate their various revo- 
 «!.^°?2' ^ \^ we account for the return of the seasons 
 and the variety of scenes which each season disolavs to 
 liL^I?T°/i!^ *y^- Numberless worlds around us are 
 framed by the swne divine artist, which roll throuch the 
 
 S?o?5S. ' »«>nd"ctedbythesameunirring 
 
 The impressive ceremonies of he second decree 
 are calcukted to inculcate upon the mind of the S 
 the mportance of the study of the liberal arts a^^ 
 
 JS^ni,^?^''^'^"'iL"''*'''' scienceof Geometry, whitli 
 A^ tfa« basis of Freemasomy, and which/being a 
 
 usSS^ t^wSS"'' "**"«;.}« «°"c»»«l with the most 
 ^rt.w ^*^V '°'" '^^i* " P™^" ^^"^ wonderful 
 SI^^ ? .1.°' J^*"'"*^ '* demonstrates the more im- 
 portwit truths of morality. To the study of Geometry 
 therefore, your attention is directed. ^^"»wy. 
 
 Father Sinclair closed the book. 
 
 "So you see, Burton," he added, still holding 
 the volume in his hand, "Geometiy rules the 
 Masonic roost, doesn't it ? Where does Christianity 
 come in? Just think what an elevating influence 
 that half-scientific, half-allegoric jargon must have 
 on the mind of the poor bUndfolded novice who 
 probably knows as much about geometry as an ox 
 does about music. What must be his thoughts 
 during the moments of initiation! When he hears 
 
 im 
 
Burton Assets 
 
 I'fi) 
 
 the wonders of Solomon's Temple described as it 
 was completed and left by the Ancient and Accepted 
 Geometricians; when he hears the Greek and 
 Roman orders of architecture discussed; when he 
 is urged to betake himself without delay to the 
 study of the Uberal arts and sciences— especially to 
 the noblest of them aU, Geometry— I can under- 
 stand the idiotic speU that comes over him, that 
 makes him feel that he is drinking deep at the 
 fountain of science. The feeling must be one of 
 exhilaration surely, 
 
 "These htUe stars, Burton, mtersperaed in the 
 lectures, represent the physical initiation," said the 
 pasior, laughing and pointing to the pages. "They 
 remind me of an experience of my own. In my 
 student days, I assisted at a concert in a certain 
 country town not a thousand miles from here. 
 During the performance a terrific noise came from 
 upstairs. The whole building shook, and the plaster 
 from the ceiling tumbled down on our heads. The 
 audience thought that an earthquake had come to 
 visit them, and they rushed out of the building panic- 
 stricken. Next day we learned, though everything 
 was done to keep it secret, that the Masons or Odd 
 Fellows, I have forgotten which, were initiating a 
 new member. While he was symbolically climbing 
 up to heaven on Jacob's ladder, that 'contraption' 
 broke down, and gravity landed the yet unethereal- 
 
 158 
 
At an "Atrto da Fe** 
 
 ized adept back on to this vulgar planet of oure." 
 " Tilings are not all of that character in the Lodges, 
 Father. There are some respectable names that 
 grace the rolls of Masonry, which could hardly be 
 accounted for if things were entirely as you describe 
 them." 
 
 "That is one of your weaknesses," retorted 
 Father Sinclair, quickly. "I have often observed 
 how tightly you Masons cling to the coat-tails of a 
 prince or a duke, and how eagerly the Associated 
 Press chronicles the fact that the Count of This and 
 the Earl of That have received the d^rees. I rarely 
 read of one of those nabobs getting very high in the 
 order; anJ— excuse me. Burton, for talking so 
 plainly— the names of those aristocrats give ignoble 
 sycophants a standing in certain circles they could 
 n t get otherwise." 
 
 "But you must admit," said Burton, "certam 
 advantages in Masoniy. There is the insurance 
 attached to it; the social features, and so on. There 
 are several Catholics in the Lodge that I am attached 
 to." 
 
 "So much the worse for them. Insurance is a 
 good thing. But that should not be a bait alluring 
 enough to tempt our people. No Catholic should 
 risk the loss of faith for the sake of a few thousand 
 dollars. Wlien it comes to the question of insurance, 
 we have our own Mutual BeneTOlents, our Foresters, 
 
 159 
 
Bttrton Assists 
 
 urags our Catholics into Masonrv It ;« *u 
 
 the soiled mysteiy of the LoZX ^ '' 
 
 grip, the dinners,The sociaTZ!'^ ^''""^' *^" 
 the influence it J. ^''"'''' *^^ ^«>«ng. 
 
 class. The" 1" oT"' !' ^" "^*^ ^ ^rt-'" 
 
 clown. .XantlZLlt ^': ^1 ™^ '^ 
 bume Avenue ifi^n, u ? ""^ *° ^"^ ^^ ^sh- 
 
 in by them ?'^ ^ ^'"' ''''"' ""■> «« token 
 "As to th,,, Burtoo, I know for a f«ct-r U 
 
 the -.um^ti'-rft^ir "s.'^' ''"™ --"^ '" 
 
 to the fmtemifv f« . "'^****°- ^hey are too useful 
 ot «ked to chmb Jjcob-s hdder. But al,„„ 
 
At an " Atito da Fe " 
 
 . ^'"^^ed head IS a fine peg to hamj thimra on Tf 
 
 was passing, ««this is n^f ^. ^"^ *^*' *^e time 
 
 tnings We must judge a work by its i^ults Tl,. 
 plea of b,.therly charity in Mason^ry i. "ly Ibl^d 
 
 to leach us charity, „„r »„ ^, ^^^ ^^^ 
 
 men. In a sense. I consider this Masonic uers^ 
 cnt.on u, F„„ee a p«,vide„,ij ,hi„; ^f^ 
 present n«,ment. thousands of men »d won, 
 
 of the sehooh,H.m and the siek-bed^ .„« min^ 
 
 .oCign'aTd'sXr,"'^ -""^'"'^ ''-^■^' 
 ■gn lands. What ebe can they do but spread 
 
Burton Assists 
 
 the sweet odor of Christ around them ? It is Iiard 
 to be an exile, even for one who, in his fatherland, 
 has risen above the attractions of home and country. 
 But the slow martyrdom of exile only shows up the 
 beauty, and the fruitfulness, and the strength of 
 the Catholic Church. Almighty God can water the 
 seeds of Christianity with tears as well as with blood. 
 It was the dispersion of the Irish race that brought 
 the Catholic Fa\th to many lands; and was it not 
 the influx of the French exiles into England during 
 the great Revolution that gave to English Catholicism 
 its 'second spring ?' 
 
 "It is to an apostate and his Masonic colleagues 
 that we are indebted for the Little Sisters of the 
 Poor who are coming here to Laurenboro. And 
 for that I thank them. Wait, Burton, till you see 
 the Little Sisters at work. I am expecting an answer 
 from Newell." 
 
 "And if Newell will not let you have that building 
 free?" asked Burton. 
 
 "We shall have to pay, or go elsewhere; that's 
 all. I do not know the financial condition of the 
 exiles. But they are coming "ery likely without 
 sack or scrip." 
 
 The editor pondered a moment. 
 
 " Should you care to see the Times comment on 
 
 the coming of the Little Sisters?" he asked. 
 
 "With moderation. Burton. No harm in giving 
 
 162 
 
 t-/ 
 
At an " Atrto da Fe " 
 
 fads. It will enlist sympathy and soften things. 
 But no spasms; no fireworks, please." 
 
 Burton promised to use tact in the affair. He 
 left the glebe-house without telling the pastor what 
 he intended to do if Newell refused to give his house 
 on Wellington Avenue rent-free to the Sisters. He 
 simply asked hun to let him know by telephone 
 the result of the request. 
 
 This visit of Burton gave Father Sinclair great 
 satisfaction. Here was a clever man submitting his 
 reason to the evidences of truth. It was not sentiment 
 or passing fancy that had moved the editor of the 
 Tim£8 to make a friend and counsellor of the pastor 
 of St. Paul's. Burton had a sound head on his 
 shoulders. And to think that a few remarks of 
 Professor Flume on the Roman Index was the 
 occasion of this evening's long conversation on such 
 vital matters. What strange ways God employs 
 to bring people nearer His Church! 
 
 The course of the Newells in regard to the Elzevir 
 Library nettled the pastor. He could find no term 
 to characterize such lack of principle. But he was 
 not surprised. He had known the head of the 
 family ever since he came to Laurenboro, ten years 
 before, as one who avoided him, as one in fact 
 who did not care to be seen in his company. 
 Never had the Newells called at the glebe-house; 
 never had they taken active part in any movement 
 
 16S 
 
Burton Assists 
 
 for the advancement of CathoUc interests. He re- 
 caUed the elder Newell's poUte refusal to preside 
 once at a school entertainment. He should not now 
 be surprised if he refused to let the Little Sisters have 
 the building on Wellington Avenue. And still the 
 Newells had their pew in St. Paul's and were at 
 church every Sunday. 
 
 How justly Father Sinclair had gauged the situa- 
 tion became etident when a District Messenger 
 handed him the following note, less than an hour 
 after Burton had left:— 
 
 Reverend Sir: — 
 
 YourletterinwbuiJdiiigonWeUuigtonAvenuereceiTOd, 
 and contents noted. I regret to say that for reasons 
 that your Reverence may not appreciate, I cannot aUow 
 any house of mine to become the abode of people who 
 as far as I can learn, have not seen fit to obey the 
 laws of their own nation, and who are posing before 
 the world as exiles. Besides, hospitals and homes are 
 ah«ady plentiful enough to meet the demands of the 
 poor in this city; and I shall use my influence to . . . 
 
 Father Sinclair threw the letter into the fire; he 
 was deeply mortified. But with charactt ristic energy 
 he telephoned to Burton that Newell, for reasons 
 known to Jiimself, had refused the building, and 
 that he was going to interview the agents of the 
 Helerand Estate. 
 
 It was evident that Newell had been drawn into 
 the enemy's camp. The directors of the Elzevir 
 
 m 
 
At an ** Atfto da Fe '' 
 
 were becoming alarmed. They feared a secession of 
 CathoUc patronage, and as a sop had offered the 
 secretaryship to young Newell at two thousand a 
 year. Nothing could have shown more clearly how 
 just had been the position the pastor of St. Paul's ^d 
 taken. 
 
 He resolved more than ever to use every means 
 to make the Laurenboro Free Library a success. It 
 was God's work, and God would provide. 
 
 i«« 
 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Min Garvey Leids On to Success 
 
 riiHE work on the library hall was advancing 
 *• rapidly, and Father Sinclair decided to have 
 the inauguration in a week's time. He invited 
 Mayor Bruce, Maglundy, the Melgroves, the librari- 
 ans, and several of the leading citizens to coffee and 
 cake in the spacious hall; he was determined to give 
 the new venture a dignified start. 
 
 The ensuing five days were fully occupied. Ap- 
 pleby, the undertaker, had put in the book-shelves 
 free of charge. Five librarians, with Miss Garvey as 
 their chief, had numbered and stamped the approved 
 volumes, and pasted in the rules for the guidance of 
 readers. When the end of the week came they were 
 tired. 
 
 The devotedness of Miss Garvey and her assistants 
 was inspiring. More than once Father Sinclair 
 declared that he was delighted with their inde- 
 fatigable zeal; that with the aid of such co-workers 
 he had nothing to fear for the future of the Library. 
 The chief librarian was an energetic little woman. 
 The inner gearing of a public library was perfectly 
 
 167 
 
Kte Garvey Lcadi 
 
 familiar to her. She had decided to employ « ,i„p|e 
 card system to keep track of the books. 
 To attain this end she reasoned that a librarian 
 
 the book? Where does he live? When did he take it 
 out? The heavy squares of card-board-dummies, 
 she called them-which replaced the absent volumes 
 on the shelves would tell her all that, and would 
 simplify things greatly. She was a thorough-goinir 
 manager. While she provided against the dang^ 
 of mislaid books, the bane of ever^ public library, 
 she safegtiarded the interests of her patmns as well. 
 She supphed every reader with a printed card, which 
 served as a book-mark. On one side were written 
 the reader s name and his registration number. On 
 the other, there were three blank columns, with 
 their respective headlines. Book^umber-Lent- 
 ^umed. No one could get a volume fit>m the 
 Laur^iboro Free Library without previously secur- 
 ing a card; an operation which made every new 
 reader pass by the Registmtion Desk, where the 
 ordinary money deposit was made to secure the 
 hbraiy against any possible loss. When the book 
 parsed out over the Delivery Desk, the number and 
 date were stamped on the card in their respecUvc 
 columns; when the volume was returned, the date 
 was stamped in the "retumeJ" column likewise. 
 The simple method furnished a receipt for the re- 
 us 
 
Oq to Soccni 
 
 turned book, and provided tl^ reader with a safe- 
 guard against mistakes of librarians. 
 
 While these preliminaries were being carn(>d out, 
 the pastor paid frequent visits to the librui y hall. 
 
 "That card system is pretty comphtf. Miss 
 Garvey; but supposing a reader does n'-t brii.g back 
 a volume within the time limit?" 
 
 "We give him three days' grace." ;!- replied 
 quickly, "then we send him one ttt llit^ • priiiUd 
 Overtime Cards, informing him that Hook \o 
 so-and-so is overdue, and at the same time p liiely 
 remind him of the engagements contracted vlien he 
 signed the Registration Folio." 
 
 "But even then, supposing he persists in his 
 neglect?" 
 
 "Then we send a messenger after him, and add 
 car-fare to the fine." 
 
 "But suppose that the messenger arrives at the 
 address, and finds that no such person ever lived 
 there?" 
 
 Miss Garvey was not going to be caught. " You 
 mean. Father, when readers wilfully give wrong 
 addresses?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then we call on the pastor and ask him to preach 
 
 a strong sermon on lying and stealing. But," she 
 
 added, "we can guard against such contingencies 
 
 by appointing a wide-awake n^stration clerfc, and 
 
 160 
 
Bliss Garvey Leads 
 
 msisting on the filling in of the Recommendation 
 Blanks. If aU these precautions fail, and we still 
 lose books, we must look for the source of the evil 
 not m our library methods, but in the perveisity 
 of the human race." 
 
 Miss Garvey's years of experience in the Hum- 
 boldt had made her a valuable acquisition, and her 
 suggestions were listened to by Father Sinclair with 
 deference. 
 
 "Fatiier. it wiU not do to put the children's books 
 on the laige shelves. We must have a section apart 
 for the httle ones. They arc so hard to please. A 
 child wiU sometimes take half an hour to choose a 
 book; and the 'grown-ups' would soon complain." 
 That has been my experience, too." said Father 
 Smclair; "andas Miss Garvey is chief libra. ., she 
 may do things to suit henself." 
 
 "And the lady in charge of the Children's SecUon 
 must have lots of patience," continued the chief. 
 '•Choose your stjiff," insisted the pastor. 
 " And the one who is to check books must be quick 
 at jotting down figures." 
 '•That is what 1 say. too,'* commented the pastor. 
 And no book should leave the library except 
 over the Checking Desk." 
 ••That is business," he added. 
 "And no book must be received by the assistants 
 before It has been checked at the Receivinii Desk " 
 
 no 
 
On to Success 
 
 "As you please," continued Father Sinclair. 
 
 This free hand pleased the little lady exceedingly; 
 but, all the same, she desired the pastor's sanction 
 for her ii:novations. That is why she insisted on 
 mentioning them all. 
 
 On the eve of the opening she presented her 
 assistants to Father Sinclair, giving each her oflScial 
 title. Every little detail had been thought out and 
 provided for when the hour for the forma! inaugu- 
 ration arrived. The books, neat and clean, were in 
 their places. After a little coaxing the old sexton 
 was prevailed upon to lend some of his decorations 
 and small banners to hide a few incongruities on the 
 walls and pillars. The place was ready for business. 
 
 Strange to say, Silas Maglundy was the first to 
 arrive at the hall next day. Father Sinclair received 
 him and turned him over to Miss Garvey, whom he 
 recognized and saluted. The chief in turn intro- 
 duced her assistants, and then took him to the 
 different sections and explained the system she had 
 adopted for the delivery and return of books. The 
 children's comer greatly interested the old million- 
 aire; he asked innumerable questions about the 
 tastes of children, and the kind of books they mostly 
 called for. 
 
 "Would you believe it. Miss Garvey," he mur- 
 mured at last, "it was the reading of a book of 
 adventures that changed my whole career in life.' 
 
 171 
 
 ■I 
 
fSiaa Garvey Leads 
 
 When I was a child, a book on the Rocky Mountains 
 and California turned my mind to the West; and I 
 have no doubt that had I not read it I should never 
 have gone there." 
 
 This was interesting to Miss Garvey; she hoped 
 he would come often and make a selection of reading 
 matter. He surely found time heavy on his hands 
 in thaw g^^t lonely mansion on Howarth and Buell 
 Streets. 
 
 "Very heavy, very heavy, indeed," assented 
 Maglundy. 
 
 It was the arrival of the Mayor and a party of 
 guests that called the chief away, and cut short 
 what promised to be an interesting conversation 
 for both. 
 
 Miss Garvey did the honors that day. She was 
 in chai^, and Father Sinclair, after a few pre- 
 liminary remarks, turned the visitors over to her. 
 After explaining the scope and organization of 
 the library — the little lady had the gracious gift of 
 speech — she invited them to luncheon which was 
 ready in an alcove hard-by. Hot coffee and cake 
 were served, and no one seemed to enjoy the visit 
 more than Mayor Bruce and Maglundy. The 
 Mayor, in a few well-chosen words, expressed his 
 delight at what he had seen and heard from the 
 chief librarian. He had not the slightest doubt that 
 tlM library was destined to do a world of good 
 
 in 
 
On to Stsccess 
 
 among the people, not merely of the Church under 
 whose auspices it was started, but also among those 
 of other denominations. He was a believer in good 
 literature, in books that parents could with a safe 
 conscience let their little ones read. He knew the 
 influence books wield on the minds of a population; 
 and he did not think that Laurenboro could have 
 too much of a good thing. As for himself, he would 
 ask Miss Garvey to put his name down as one of 
 the natrons of the new Free Library; she might 
 expect to see his children among her customers — 
 and perhaps himself. 
 
 When this deUcate little speech had been ap- 
 plauded as it deserved, calls for Maglundy were 
 heard in various parts of the hall. But the old 
 man was seen whispering to Father Sinclair who 
 stood up and said : — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. INIaglundy asks me 
 to say that a severe bronchial trouble prevents him 
 from gratifying you this afternoon. However, he 
 also desired me to state that thi^ visit has given 
 him great pleasure, and that he should be pleased 
 to have his name placed beside that of Mayor 
 Bruce as a patron of the Laurenboro Free Library; 
 and that he intends to be one of the chief Ubrarian's 
 most assiduous customers. 
 
 These remarks were greeted with tremendous 
 applause, which pleased Maglundy. Father Sinclair, 
 
 in 
 
 ■IW 
 
Sttat Garvey Leads 
 
 who had not sat down, then turned to the Mayor 
 and continued, 
 
 "Mr. Mayor, permit me to thank you for the 
 delicate tribute you have paid to our undertaking, 
 and for the patronage you have i-xtended to us. I 
 feel that the Library could not hugin under more 
 favorable auspices; nor could it be entrusted to 
 better hands. The devotedness of Miss Ciarvey 
 and her assistants, known to only u few of us as yet, 
 will become more evident as the months roll on. I 
 have only one word to add; it is this: the Laui«»- 
 boro Library has not been b^m to antagonsK 
 any existing institutions in this city. We have been 
 getting our books together simply to fill a gap in 
 the facilities for the education of our own people. 
 And in so doing we feel we are within our rights as 
 citizens and as Catholics." 
 
 "Hear, hear!" was heard from all sides. 
 
 The company then dispersed. A number of 
 books were taken out by the visitors. But history 
 will record the fact that the first name on the Regis- 
 tration Folio, secured by Miss Garvey, was that of 
 Silas Maglundy; and the first book taken out was 
 K-5S1—The Wooing of SUas. The sight of his 
 own name in print tickled the old man. It was 
 Miss Garvey herself who had selected for him the 
 volume. 
 
 When Father Sinclair returned to his study, a 
 
 174 
 
 'i ^SS^t^SOS^i^F^S^V 
 
On to Success 
 
 note wtK waiting for him, the perusal of which 
 gave him great pain. It was from the Melgroves. 
 
 Reverend and dear Father; — 
 
 I repret so much that I cannot go to the (^lening 
 this afternoon. l.ittU- Helen is a very sick child, and I 
 dare not leave her. Mr. Melgrove is in the Provinces. 
 I am really anxious. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 Eleanor Mblorove. 
 
 The pastor was prepanng to go over to the Mel- 
 groves when Burton walked in. He was looking 
 for a report of the inauguration for the Times of the 
 following day, and a synopsis of the Mayor's speech, 
 and Maglundy's. 
 
 " Maglundy did not speak," said Father Sinclair. 
 " I replaced him. He complained of a severe bron- 
 chial trouble." 
 
 Burton laughed outright. 
 
 "That's what the old dad did the other night at 
 the Davenptirt Club. I musi scorch him again 
 about his bronchial tubes." 
 
 "Burton, you shall not do anj'thing of the kind. 
 That old man is thawing out. He has an excellent 
 heart. I am beginning to understand him. You 
 will find him yet one of Laurenboro's best citizens. 
 Don't crush him." 
 
 " But his intolerable arrogance ?" urged the editor. 
 
 "True, he flew pretty high in the beginning. 
 
 But that article of yours the other dav had a sobering 
 
 na 
 
Miss Garvey Leads 
 
 effec, .„ Um. He lu. b«„ . diff««„ .^ ,;„„. 
 ^ow, let him alone, won't you ?" 
 Burton promised. 
 
 "How is the t>v„ penny Cateehfam getting „„?■• 
 Got a, far as Original Sin," answered the editor 
 »«..hng. "Butlamg„i,^righ„h,„„gh„,.,hi,""^^ 
 are b^syn, the offlce these da,s; «, n>any functions 
 
 ..T •"■„ "7'™'- ' ^'^ «° """"Sh «ith it." 
 Very well. And .when any difflculHes turn up 
 <fonot pass U«„. by. Just note them and bri^' 
 lh«n to me. Mayor Brace made an excellent speecf 
 
 "I will, indeed. Bruce has great tact. That is 
 
 tem,_^ Would .t be pn,dent. though, to put him in 
 t Jrif '"'""" °' '^ •■"" Catholic Ubmry.= 
 
 Ir .^ "*" "«"'^' Wm as a missile by ie 
 rabble at the next election." 
 
 Fa;'^L;i.''"^°' »™" - "«='*•■ •— ' 
 
 The editor bade the pastor good night. The latter 
 te^phoned to the Melg„,ves ft!: ^ wouH ciun 
 
 "01 hdp thmbng that the Ubrary scheme was 
 ^oXir ""'""-"'-'^''".ous.nd 
 
 170 
 
CHAFIER XV 
 
 The Pasang of Little Helen 
 
 A FTER Mass, the following morning, Father 
 -4^ Sinchiir started out to see Helen. He met 
 the physician, who passed over to him from the 
 other side of the street. 
 
 "I fear the Melgroves are going to lose their 
 httle daughter. She cannot possibly recover. I wish 
 you would call and prepare them. The husband 
 has not got back yet, and Mrs. Melgrove is desolate." 
 "I am going over now," answered the priest. 
 "How long may the child live?" 
 "A few hours at most." 
 
 Here was a duty which went hard with Father 
 Sinclaii— to teU a mother that her only daughter 
 m whom aU her love was centered, was about to be 
 taken from her. In the long years of his priestly 
 mimstiy he had often this duty to perform, but it 
 was never a welcome one. The sorrows of others 
 moved him deeply, and it was always with regret 
 that he entered a home where Death was waiting 
 to enter after him. He knew he could not tell Mrs 
 Melgrove that she should not let her tears flow- 
 a mother's tears cannot be stifled at a simple bid- 
 
 IT7 
 
The Passing of 
 
 ding — but he could speak to her of the will of God, 
 and how, when that Supreme Will is known, we 
 must bend our heads, even when we clasp our hearts 
 to keep them from breaking. Had she not, with 
 her motherly affectior, a love of God that would 
 strengthen her to make the sacrifice ? 
 
 There was silenct* and gloom in the large house. 
 The shades were lowered; even the maid who 
 opened the door for 'him spoke in a whisper. It 
 was evident that the Angel of Death was hovering 
 over the threshold, waiting to take the child with 
 him to the home of the angels beyond the clouds 
 
 "I am so glad you have come. Helen is very 
 low," said the mother, taking the pastor's hand. 
 " I don't think she can recover, and I am so desolate." 
 She ^ave free vent to the tears she could not suppress. 
 
 "Have you wired for Mr. Melgrove?" the priegt 
 asked. 
 
 "We cannot reach him. Three tel^rams have 
 gone since last night. He should have been back 
 two days ago. I know he is anxious; for the child 
 was ailing when he left the city." 
 
 "Strange he cannot be found," mused Father 
 Sinclair. 
 
 " Will you step up to see her ? And, Father, won't 
 you give the dear child your blessing?" 
 
 Father Sinclair went upstairs to where Helen was 
 sleeping. The room was quite dark. But when he 
 
 178 
 
Little Helen 
 
 entered, he heard a gentle moaning. The curtains 
 were partially drawn, and there in a tiny cot lay the 
 little girl whose days, yea, hours, were numbered. 
 
 " What a happy cliild after all," thought the priest, 
 as he gazed on the sleeping form, "and how many 
 sorrows and trials she is going to escape." 
 
 Then turning to the mother, Father Sinclair, in 
 accents that bespoke the man of God feeling with a 
 human heart, said: 
 
 " Mrs. Melgrove, I deeply feel with you the con- 
 dition of poor Helen; but if our dear Lord should call 
 her, you are ready, I am sure, to make the sacrifice." 
 
 "If it b God's will. His will is mine, Father. 
 But it is so hard to part with her." 
 
 And the tears b^an to flow afresh. 
 
 " Be brave. Offer the little angel to God. Think 
 of heaven and all its joys, whither the dear child is 
 going so soon." 
 
 A sigh of pain, and the tiny blue eyes opened. 
 
 "Daddy; where is daddy?" murmured the child, 
 almost inaudibly. 
 
 "He will be here soon. He is thinking of you, 
 darling," answered the broken-hearted mother. 
 " Father Sinclair has come to see you." 
 
 A little hand, frail as a linnet's wing, tried to 
 
 extricate itself; but the priest replaced the coverlet, 
 
 and the faintest shadow of a smile stole over the 
 
 dieek of Helen. 
 
 179 
 
 Jm 
 
The Paning of 
 
 Father Sinclair bent down. 
 "Do you want my blessing, Helen?" he asked 
 softly, almost in a whisper. 
 
 The blue eyes opened intelligently, and then 
 closed again. 
 
 The pastor made the sign of the cross over the 
 dymg child, and in a .silent prayer asked the angeLs 
 to take the innocent soul to live with them. He then 
 started to leave the hou.se. 
 Miss Garvey was running up the steps. 
 "Father Sinclair. I have been hunting for you all 
 over. How shall we ever break the news? Mr. 
 Burton has just had a despatch from the Provinces. 
 There has been a wreck and several killed. He feara 
 Melgrove is of the number. What shaU we do to 
 break the news?" 
 
 "We must first see if that news is confirmed," 
 answered the priest, calmly. "I will see Burton at 
 once. Do not mention it to Mre. Melgrove. please." 
 
 He went quickly down to the Times office, his 
 mind a prey to many conflicting emotions. Not 
 «nce he reached Laurenboro had such a pathetic 
 episode been thrust under his notice. Many and 
 many a time in the past ten years the shadow of the 
 Infinite had darkened tne homes of his people and 
 had aroused his priestly sympathies. But there 
 are circumstances that intensify even home sorrows 
 and a pastor's attitude toward them. This was 
 
 180 
 
Little Helen 
 
 evidently one of them His friendship f.)r the stricken 
 fanuly made him share its som>w all the more deeply. 
 How was he to act ? 
 
 Burton was at his desk when the pastor entered 
 the office. 
 
 "Bad news from the Provinces, Father. Our 
 friend Melgrove is seriously hurt. Just had another 
 despatch. He'll be here to-morrow at ten." 
 
 "But this is dreadful," broke in Father Sinclair. 
 "Poor Mrs. Melgrove had already enough to bear; 
 her only child is dying. How are we going to break 
 the news to her?" 
 
 Tiie pastor stood for a moment completely at a 
 loss how to act. He ieft Burton in as great a quan- 
 dary as himself and returned to the glebe-house. 
 
 A telegram was awaiting him from the injured man. 
 
 Home to-morrow. SUghtly hurt in smash-up. Break 
 newi to wife gently. Anxious about Helen. 
 
 Mexorove. 
 Here was a way out of the difficulty. The news 
 might have been worse after all. He would break 
 it gently, and he started to return to the .sick-home. 
 He met J^ss Garvey at the door. 
 
 "She fears something has happened to Mr. 
 Melgrove." 
 
 "Mr. Melgrove is hurt, but not badly. I have 
 just had a despatch from him." 
 The priest hurried upstairs. 
 
 181 
 
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The Passing of 
 
 "Father, something must have happened to my 
 husband. I cannot explain his silence." said the 
 careworn wife, coming to meet him. 
 
 "He'll be here to-morrow, at ten. There was a 
 slight accident and he got a few bruises, that's all. 
 He 11 be here to-monow. He did not want to distress 
 you further. He knows you have trouble enough 
 ]ust now. He'll be here to-morrow, at ten." 
 
 "Oh that he may arrive to find Helen alive!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The thought that her little daughter might die 
 before her husband reached home nearly drove her 
 frantic. 
 
 That night was a long and weaiy one for Mrs. 
 Melgrove. The wind moaning in the trees outside 
 and the fitful gusts that now and then struck the 
 window-panes startled her. She was physically 
 exhausted. The sleepless hours she had passed 
 at the bedside of her sick child had told on her own 
 self; and the added anxiety that things might be 
 worse than represented in the despatch to Father 
 Sinclair made her condition a pitiable one indeed 
 
 Mi.s Garvey determined to stay the night with 
 her, and at midnight insisted on her taking a few 
 hours' rest. The stricken wife and mother retired 
 to her room, not to sleep, but to fall on her knees 
 and pray to God for strength to bear the trials that 
 were pressing upon her. She was in that position 
 
 18« ^ 
 
Little Helen 
 
 and fast asleep when the maid found her at dawn. 
 Helen's state grew worse. The breathing was 
 rapid and shallow; the faint pulse had ahnost 
 ceased to beat. The child seemed to rest, however. 
 Shortly after nine o'clock, a quick spasm, followed 
 by a relaxing of the muscles, told those present that 
 the little soul had flown to Paradise. When the 
 whole truth revealed itself, the mother's firet act, 
 heroic in its simplicity, was to kneel down by her 
 departed child, and in an accent full of resignation, 
 to murmur, " My God, Thy will be done !" 
 
 A few minutes later an ambulance drove to the 
 doors, and she went downstairs to take up another 
 cross, she knew not yet how heavy. 
 
 Melgrove was carried into the house on a stretcher 
 and laid on a lounge. His first words were: "How 
 is Helen?" He was gently told that she had just 
 left this world; and the brave Catholic gentleman 
 closed his eyes and said: "My God, Thy will be 
 done." 
 
 The will of God had ever been the inspiration of 
 that truly Christian family. The crosses that were 
 now pressing so heavily upon it only made that more 
 evident. Trials and tribulations are marks of 
 God's love for us— and the Melgroves knew it well. 
 There was no rebellion in the heart of either; a 
 resignation admirable in its completeness succeeded 
 the first teara of grief. 
 
 18S 
 
The Passing 
 
 There was a sad procession the morning Httle 
 Helen was laid away on the hillside. During her 
 short career, and even while her life was ebbing 
 TfJ' ^^' «^^^«"«' «>y ways had endeared the 
 child to all who knew her. And the affectionate 
 sympathy that went out to the sorrowing parents at 
 their loss was deep and stit)ng. If the sympathy of 
 fnends could restore to us our idols, what a happy 
 world this would be! A grave under a willow-tree 
 m the frozen ground received tlie angel of the 
 Melgrove household. An hour later a fall of snow, 
 emblem of the innocence of the little one lying 
 beneath, came to complete the work of the gge? 
 and blotted out for a time even the spot where the' 
 child was at rest. 
 
 Melgrove grew stronger as the days went by he 
 soon regained his old-time interest in things. But 
 his convalescence was bound to be slow. His internal 
 mjuries were far more serious than had h en thought 
 ai first, and it might be many weeks before he 
 should be able to leave his room. Father Sinclair 
 was a daily visitor. The ties that bound the pastor 
 and this faithful member of his flock grew stronger 
 and the priestly sympathy shown the sick man was 
 answered by the affection of a noble heart. 
 
 184 
 

 CHAPTER XVI 
 The Free Library Begins its dreer 
 
 go many events had been crowded into the last 
 *^ few days that the week went by before Father 
 Sinclair noticed it. The Sunday following the 
 destruction of the books and the burial of little 
 Helen, there was a change in the programme at 
 St. Paul's. As usual, the nine o'clock Mass was 
 crcwded. The pastor did not like this. Many a 
 time he had spoken from the altar of the obligation 
 there was of now and then assisting at the more 
 solemn celebration of the Holy Sacrifice. He brought 
 pressure to bear in various quarters. He insisted 
 on the teachers instructing the children in this 
 matter in the parish schools, thus indirectly reaching 
 the parents. He even intimated that he would give 
 longer sermons at nine o'clock unless they came to 
 the late Mass mo' Generally. 
 
 In order to drav, his people to the eleven o'clock 
 Mass, he did his utmost to surround the function 
 with every solemnity. A chosen choir rendered 
 with devotional effect the beautiful old chants and 
 harmonized Masses; and he usually had a stranger, 
 a brother priest from one of the city parishes, some- 
 
 185 
 
The Free 1 
 
 rary 
 
 times a travelling Passionist or Franciscan, to 
 deliver telling sermons. Many non-CathoUcs came 
 eveiy Sunday to the High Mass, drawn thither by 
 the solemnity of the service as well as by the elo- 
 quence of the speakers. But not a few of the parish- 
 ioner, satisfied with the strict obligation of assisting 
 at a Low Mass, remained at home. 
 
 The present Sunday was an exception. The 
 Advent season had stripped St. Paul's of its usual 
 c^rations. The absence of flowers and other 
 artificial trappings gave a subdued tone to the 
 Gothic outUnes of the chancel, which, in the minds 
 of many, greatly improved it-Gothic does not lend 
 Itself to decoration. But it had been announced in 
 the rtme. the day previoMs. that a Redemptorist 
 Father, still remembered in Laui^nboro, where he 
 had preached a mission seven years before, was pass- 
 ing through the city and Lad consented to deliver 
 a sermon. 
 
 Even before half-past ten the pews were comfort- 
 ably filled, many present being from the outside 
 denominations who recalled the tremendous truths 
 they had heard so many years ago. falling from that 
 eloquent tongue. 
 
 Punctually at eleven o'clock, the altar boys, in 
 their neat gowns and ^ottas. began to file out on 
 both sides of the high altar. They met at the middle 
 of the sanctuary, bent the knee, and retired to their 
 
 1S6 
 
Begins its Career 
 
 stalls. Then came the servers, followed by Father 
 
 Sinclair. Mass was begun. 
 During the chanting of the Gospel, the Redemp- 
 
 torist. m his simple black cassock, with beads 
 
 dangling from his girdle, walked slowly out from 
 behind the altar, and ascended the pulpit AH 
 eyes recognized Father Golworth, now grown quite 
 gray, and when he began his sermon, the same 
 powerful voice, the same convincing logic, the same 
 soul-stimng pathos, that had held St. Paul's spell- 
 bound seven years before, was soon echoing through 
 its arches. 
 
 He had not been spealdng more than five minutes 
 when a shuffling up the main aisle attracted the 
 attention of the people. The old sexton was leading 
 Silas Maglundy to the third pew from the top 
 Silas glanced around him when he entered it. He 
 did not know that every eye was centered on him— 
 even the preacher's. He bowed to Miss Garvey 
 whom he recognized sitting immediately behind 
 
 him. Apparently, he was absolutely unconscious 
 
 of anything unseemly in coming to Mass so late; 
 
 he subsided into hi. seat, and then turned his eyes 
 
 up to the pulpit. 
 It was a powerful sermon on justice, and on the 
 
 obligation of restitution of gains unjustly acquired. 
 
 Ihe preacher entered into detaUs. He told his 
 
 audience how some men lull themselves into a false 
 
 187 
 
The Free Library 
 
 security, and imagine they can, by great benefactions 
 or public services, atone for injustice done to private 
 individuals. During half an hour he held his hearers' 
 attention ; Maglundy never took his eyes off him. 
 
 When the preacher stepped down, the worshippers 
 fixed their eyes on the altar ; Maglundy did likewise. 
 The soul-inspiring strains of the Credo roused him, 
 and he turned in his seat to stare at the choir. He 
 caught the eye of Miss Garvey, who q?iictly looked 
 at him as if reproving his levity. The lesson was 
 heeded ; for during the rest of the service he did not 
 look around. He followed the movements of the 
 worshippers near him, even kneeling on one knee 
 during the Elevation. Or: the whole, it was a good 
 beginning. After Mass he walked slowly down the 
 aisle, got into his sleigh, which was wailing for him, 
 and drove home. 
 
 "Who was that stout old gentleman who came up 
 the aisle during the sermon.'" asked Father Gol- 
 worth, at dinner that day. 
 
 "His name is Maglundy, one of my lambs," 
 answered the pastor. 
 
 "Maglundy— not Silas Maglundy, the wealthy 
 California miner?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 " Well, my remarks must have gone home," added 
 the missioner. "Maglundy has left a reputation 
 behind him among the miners. Unless he straightens 
 
 188 ^ 
 
Begins its Career 
 
 up things with an old partner of his, he'll not leave 
 California if he ever goes there again. Miners have 
 a way of doing things in a hurry that hurts." 
 
 Father Sinclair thought he already knew some- 
 thing of the deal, and he did not press for further 
 information. 
 
 "Is the old man as vain as ever?" asked the 
 missioner. 
 
 "He has shown tendencies in that direction, since 
 he came here, but the press is knocking it out of 
 him." 
 
 "Out in San Jacinto, where I gave a mission two 
 years ago," continued Father Golworth, "he wanted 
 to erect a fountain where for six months of the year 
 there isn't a spring running, or a drop of water 
 falling from the heavens. The citizens were about 
 to tar-and-feather him." 
 
 "But he has changed since he came to Lauren- 
 boro," interposed the pastor. "We are going to 
 train him. The trouble is we did not catch him 
 quite young enough. But we are going to train him 
 for all that." 
 
 And Father Sinclair laughtd heartily. 
 
 The opaning of the Library to the public was 
 announced for that afternoon, and the first day was 
 to be reserved for children exclusively. At three 
 o'clock the little readers crowded in from various 
 Sunday-schools. Big ones and little ones, quiet ones 
 
 180 
 
 
t-w 
 
 The Free Library 
 
 and roguish ones, came tumbling in over one another 
 raising such a disturbance in the long passage that 
 the chief librarian had to.appcar in person. 
 
 When th< all entered the hall and saw the shelves 
 of new books-such a tempting feast-there was a 
 momentary hush. But it was only momentary'. 
 The novelty of the situation-a libra.y day exclu- 
 sively for them-was too much for their youthful 
 enthusiasm; the din became deafe-ing. AH the 
 chief could do was to point to ^he ' Silence " placards 
 hanging around the wall. But she might as well 
 have tned to stem the torrent of the Brono. 
 
 The beginnings were attended with moTe or less 
 disorder. Miss Garvey set two assistants instead of 
 one to register names ; and that disarranged her plans. 
 Sshe did not expect such a ni'mber of children the 
 first day; and with all her foresight she admitted 
 that she was not prepared fo- them. She was busy 
 stnughtening out a few unruly youngsters when 
 leather Smclair arrived on the scene-an arrival that 
 was a signal for peace. 
 
 "Here's de Fader, lads; cheese it," said the leader. 
 In a moment there was a sihnce as of the tomb. 
 
 "Well, Father Sinclair." sai ! the chief, "hen- did 
 you manage it?" 
 
 "I do not know. They must be ifraid of me. Do 
 I look very fierce?" 
 " I do not mean that." 
 
 100 
 
Begins its Career 
 
 "Well what do you mean ?" he up ired, smiling. 
 
 "How did you manage to get Mr. Maglundy to 
 Mass thiii morning?" 
 
 "Are not all Catholics bound to go to Mass on 
 Sundays, unless la\vfully exempted?" 
 
 Miss Garvey knew that this was as far as she 
 could get, and proceeded immediately to suggest 
 means of dealing with the motley crowd of young 
 readers. She had deciH-^d to put up a long barrier, 
 which should let in only three boys at a time to ihe 
 Receiving Desk. Father Sinclair promised her that 
 the improvement should be made before the following 
 Sunday. 
 
 It was a consoling spectac.e to witness the tiny 
 sea of faces looking ravenously ai the backs of the 
 new books, straining their little necks in their en- 
 deavor to read the titles, and freely giving their 
 commentaries on the contents. 
 
 " O dat's no good, dat book. I read it," said one, 
 looking at a gaudily-bound volrme. " It's all about 
 a feller wot jumped into de water to grab anoder 
 feller wet was goin* to get drowned." 
 
 "Wot'.< dis one? 'A Boy's Adventures in the 
 Arctic: All about de polar bears and de whales, 
 I s'pose. May I take dis one, J iss ?" 
 
 "Let me have your card," said the librarian. 
 
 The yellow card was handed over lo the assistant: 
 the number of the book and the date were stamped 
 
 191 
 
 I 
 
 
^ Free library 
 
 lh«^: the boy go, ,h„ ^,^ ,„^ 
 
 "No, dr." 
 
 ;; Wo en get v™ „ve.r ., dc ElvW." 
 
 Jake ^n!!;!!^. • ™'""'"' " <'''-"• " d-^ Wdy calLi 
 And there wa., a tUtcr all round. 
 
 wr^yt.t;--"^-"-"*'"'^-^-"--- 
 
 "TU hOce dal." And he got ft. 
 
 When he was leaving the hall il,. i. . 
 
 "Got anoder, Miss?" 
 
 in Ti!f flt*;::;''"'.""' ■"■~-»«'^ '« «- -«,, 
 for cw:; eirtr'fT '■ """ *» "« «■«' 
 
 huIL'TndtrtTLT''"' "'" ■• "^■^" <" »- 
 
 names and addZ^fT'" ?" '•^^"''' '''"' «•■- 
 Mi^GarveyCTed '.?•"':''.'»'' *■*'-" "•^»■• 
 
 well f^m .he oil Z , f '"? "' "" "'"<'-'' 
 
 Thejibrary niies were printed 
 
1' 
 
 Begins its Career 
 
 on the long yellow cards, which each reader carried 
 home; and they had to be observed, or she would 
 know the reason why. Altogether the first day was 
 a success. When the chief and her assistants com- 
 pared notes, it was decided that the ( nildren's 
 Section should be e;:tcnded, and more b<K)ks secured. 
 The following Wednesday tluy had to meet again 
 to cater to another element, 7' < was the day for 
 the "grown-ups." Shortly after three, the readers 
 began to arrive, p.-ssed by the Registration Desk, 
 scanned the catalogues, asked for their numbers, 
 had their cards stamped, picked up their books, and 
 left. The registration and delivery proceeded as 
 smoothly as clockwork, but after an hour or so, 
 great gaps began to appear on the shelves. It was 
 with regret that the assistants had to tell many 
 readers that the volumes they called for were out. 
 They realized more than ever that a fresh supply 
 must be provided if readers were to be held. 
 
 The day was nearly ended when the door opened 
 and Silas Maglundy walked in with K— 531 under 
 his arm. Miss Garvey was the first to greet him. 
 Silas, \vnth a broad smile, said that he had enjoyed 
 the wooing of his namesake very much indeed, and 
 wanted to exchange. The catalogue was handed 
 to him. He wrote down on a bit of paper, K— -23, 
 F— 146, G— 75, C— 76, intimating that any one of 
 the four would do. 
 
11 
 
 The Free Library 
 
 •f "T^^ ^^Phasizes the need of more books, does 
 It not. Mr. Maglundy?" said the chief 
 ^Undoubtedly. Are they all gone?" 
 Not aU gone." she replied, " but so many readei^ 
 
 tT tl: "T^ T '- ': ^-"^^^- that it aZnT • 
 to the same thing. To-day we have given out 
 seventy, and we gave one hundred and thirtyl Z 
 children la.t Sunday, ^ret you we,, not W to 
 see the enthusiasm of the little ones. It would have 
 done your heart good." 
 She spoke of the heart of Maglundy. as if she we,. 
 
 thl^s" *'" '-' ^° -^- ^^^^ -<ie^ 
 
 "How consoling! The dear Mttle ones. There is 
 undoubtedly need of a fr^sh supply of books to me^ 
 the demand." said Maglundy. 
 
 "You see in your own case." she insisted. "We 
 cannot fill your order." 
 
 "I see. I see. This is a great work, indeed.' 
 
 Harvey, and we must get it before long." 
 
 You really should have more money. Well 
 ^eU; this is interesting, indeed " 
 
 Meanwhile Maglundy. turning on his heel was 
 examjmng the n>om with both eyes. The Ln^S 
 andb,.adthofitwe«takeni„. HewalkedaZS 
 
 1^4 
 
Begins its Career 
 
 with the chief, and was allowed the extraordinary 
 privilege of going inside the counter where Miss 
 Garvey explained in detail the mechanism of the 
 delivery and receipt of the books. She had aheady 
 done this once before; but she was determined that 
 the old man's memory should be jogged now and 
 then. She had a reason for it. 
 
 "Interesting, very interesting, indeed," said Ma- 
 glundy, looking at his watch. 
 
 Miss Garvey asked the privilege of selecting a 
 book for him, and gave him F— 253, The Unwilling 
 Bachelor. The old millionaire smiled at the title, 
 shook hands with the chief and left the hall with the 
 volume under his arm. 
 
 The four assistants were at the Receiving Desk 
 waiting for her. 
 
 "Is the date named. Miss Garvey? Will Father 
 Sinclair officiate?" they all asked in unison. 
 
 "Never you mind about the date or ceremony. 
 I'll manage that. Business first; sentiment after- 
 ward. Are the checks and stamps put away ? Now, 
 ladies, next Sunday, at three, we shall be needed 
 here." 
 
 The five put on their furs, locked the doors, and 
 went out into the avenue, where the glare of the arc 
 lights produced a curious effect among the large 
 snowflakes which were coming down in myriads. 
 
 180 
 
! ■' 
 
 .. ,*'^-' 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 The Dzevir Makes a Counter-Movement 
 
 JT was an accident that brought Father Sinclair 
 and Maglundy together the following day. 
 ITi-^ millionaire's driver had not been able to extricate 
 his hoj^es from a blockade on Albright Stroet. 
 While he was held tight amid huge sleighs, laden 
 with iron and lai^e boxes, the old man perceived 
 the pastor passing on the sidewalk. Maglundy 
 hailed him, made him get in beside him, and rolled 
 the large fur robes cosily around liim. 
 
 "I shall pass by your church, Fawther. just as 
 
 soon as these drays ahead of us get out of the way " 
 
 A few minutes later when the street was clear, the 
 
 splendid team, with their silver-mounted harness and 
 
 sweet-toned sleigh-bells, turned the corner and went 
 
 away toward the Gottingen portion of Laurenboro. 
 
 What was the name of the preacher who spoke 
 
 m St. Paul's yesterday?" asked Maglundy. He 
 
 ^ed the pastor not to foiget that he had been to 
 
 "Father Golworth. a missioner," answered the 
 pastor. He comes from San Jacinto." 
 
 "From Californift-from San Jacinto," exclaimed 
 
 197 
 
Tbe Ebevir Waku 
 
 fte old man. "I should We been » gUd to see 
 any one from my former home." *"<'«>«« 
 
 "He WB only passing through. He took th. 
 ri.em»„ ,™„... „,„„^ y,^ pK^^ "« took the 
 
 "g"- 4 fs'Z Tr ' "^^ ■"" "^'o- What 
 
 in.;o:^e:h!;:s;r™''^'^«"^"™ 
 
 Fathlr'anZ '-r ■"^'''" *"""••" «?««• 
 
 'o.iBiyon"tsu4r:,?^:^';rcru'" 
 
 s^5Sth-r:i£Cit?r- 
 
 "We only too often puU the wnni «v.. 
 eyes." conUnued the pilot ".„T .1! """ 
 
 said, imagine we aJ-T^ ' *" *' P'^'"' 
 
 perform ^ra':: n"sritr ""'■■ rr 
 
 done one^hhor even. ho:^'.hettir"'^ 
 thl^^hMhTT'r'"'^ """ ^■'«- Sinclair 
 
 brokeTortlt- ° °"'"'""'"'"'"'o- Bo'^e 
 
 "Indeed- how inte,e,,ij^; how very i„.e«,.i„g. 
 
A Cofinter-Movement 
 
 "I knew it would," answered the pastor. "It is 
 going to fill a very great gap in Laurenboio. pro- 
 vided we can keep it up." 
 
 By tWs time they had reached the glebe-house, 
 and Father Sinclair jumped from the sleigh 
 
 ^Jf"^Z^^^}^^ *"* '^ y°" «* ^^""^1^ yesterday. 
 Mr. Maglundy. I trust you will find your wa^ 
 there regularly. This is one of our duties as mem- 
 bers of the only true Church, you know." 
 
 "Thank you. Fawthe«; I shall be there every 
 Sunday henceforward." And raising his hand to 
 his cap. he drove on to his home. 
 
 It was evident that Maglundy felt more and more 
 at home m the company of the priest. The old 
 millionaire acknowledged that he felt the need of 
 consultirjg him frequently, and it was only the fear 
 of troubhng him that prevented him from calling 
 at the glebe-house oftener. He told this one day 
 to Father Sinclair. ^ 
 
 "WeU. Mr. Maglundy. if Mahomet does not 
 come to the mountain-what is the rest of it?-I 
 may have to call on you." 
 
 "I should be delighted to see you often at my 
 residence. I live alone, and you will always find 
 the iatch-stnng hanging out, Fawther, as my old 
 fnends the miners used to say." 
 
 190 
 
The Elzevir lilakes 
 
 tinued "r^r '^'''*'. ^fl««t»ng « moment, con- 
 tinued, perhaps we might go together?" 
 
 Veiy well, Fawther. I']] send tJ,« i • u , 
 you-.t „h.. hour. My JC^ ^^I d rit .^J 
 to_;ny ^.dence. and we will leave f„„ .iet; ' 
 Say seven o'clock." 
 K was arranged that they sh„„ld meet at seven 
 JrMet;t'"^™^T"»''^'«'™<'X»hould 
 
 BeneacUl^XwXTirHrir 
 
 o^i^ti -"or-irt^t Me^rp-a ; 
 
 "Stil a few orthod^ MeTintf aT. r'^'"'^ 
 d^^adfully ignomnt. ° " ""^ "■" "»» 
 
 Maglundy was not the only one in »hi. „ . 
 and Easter Duty. Such a thin^ a/c.ITl 
 
 o^^tvirce"";,^'- '•---- waf"„t; 
 
A Counter-Movement 
 
 children educated in the public schools. It was 
 more proper, Kenneth Newell contended, that the 
 future citizens of a country should grow up together. 
 1 his separating of one class from another, for reasons 
 of religion, was hateful to him. He beUeved in 
 centralization. Besides, the State should have a 
 preponderating word in the civic formation of its 
 citizens. 
 
 No one could accuse Newell of being inconsistent 
 m his conduct. He pushed his Newellism to the 
 veiy bnnk of open rupture with his pastor and his 
 Church. His latest movement was to suggest the 
 establishment of a O .aolic section in the Elzevir 
 as an offset to Father Sinclair's scheme. The latter 
 had it on good authority that the directors of that 
 institution, also at Newell's suggestion, had asked 
 underhand for a list of the books in the Laurenboro 
 Library. They were not ahttletaken aback when 
 they received a catalogue by registered mail, "With 
 Father Sinclair's compliments." 
 
 It was bad taste, then, on their part to announce 
 m the Times that a new departure had been decided 
 upon at their last meeting, namely, that the Elzevir 
 Library, "the only real free library in the city," to 
 meet the ever-increasing demand for denominational 
 hterature, was going to introduce a special section, 
 to be known as the "R. C. Section." for a certain 
 class of readers. 
 
 «0I 
 
The Ehevir Makes 
 
 whether he should Crt it „" . '?" '° '"<"' 
 
 Insert it?" said the oastnr "Wu 
 the Ekevir p«,pfe wish .o'^:^ c^'^ ,■""!' ,« 
 
 7 "•^- "''^'""^"'Ply'CathoIicSect.on'? 
 K. C. may mean many Ihinw ;> ™ ■=^"on r 
 
 Royal Co»„et edition of thT?" ^. """^ "■"= 
 
 and the other P,.^ h I hei tf ZT '"°"'"''"- 
 year, and that I had to b2 I^s. .T T ""' 
 oean the new Red Cover edition of n . """^ 
 
 II may mean anything, 'h c 11 ''"'!'" ""'''"■ 
 blind; and „nle^ thL ^^^ ^™ ^ ^P'X." 
 ^« franker in their methXl ^U for^n^'"™ 
 n.y people ,„ keep away £,.„ , w- "^ "'™ 
 
 Burton took notes, well pleased witl, .1. 
 tions, and was about to leave ^enpl I"*!"" 
 asked him • " """"• Smdair 
 
A Counter-Movement 
 
 » requmd from y„„ ,h.„ „^^, knowledge of the 
 tathohc doelriBes. Any one may studylhe cate! 
 cU..m for th- speeuMve :„,e«,. L« h in a.7^t 
 a. any one may »,udy Shintoi^m. P^yer i, ^„Ld 
 ?r, T" P"'^"-'" '"'^^ enlighlenmenl and 
 got a, far a, you a« now, Burton, but they had not 
 
 -tefo« the public eye as you a^wiil Le to 
 rtruKsle; and unless God's gmce helps y„„, and it 
 n^ybehad for the asking, y„„ will halt by th; way " 
 Burtonleft the glebe-house strongly im^pres Jt 
 A«.e w„^ of the priest speaking so authoritative^^ 
 Half-way down the stairs he turned back 
 
 I was foigetting to tell you. Father, that I spoke 
 to Mayor Broce about that matter Jf havi„rhis 
 n«ne c^nn«ted with the new Libra^-. He was ve" 
 Pl^t about it, and said that he feared nothiZ 
 If you desire to print his name in your catalogued 
 one of your patrons, you a«at perfect liberty to do 
 so. Another thing I „as nearly forgelting-tl," 
 
 mine. He ,s a Quaker; but I mentioned the maiter 
 
 Incurables, free of rent, till the spring " 
 
 ym are taku«. 1 wiU see to things to-morrow. 
 
 SOS 
 
tbe Ebevir Mahu 
 
 The Sirters will arrive in a couple of week. H 
 w * Binall sketch of their work *L liT. ' "*'* 
 
 whichyo«n«y 'boado^^'T^''^^,^^^^^^^ 
 care to." '°' J'ou'readers. if you 
 
 «n'r2 e;^*'"t '-'"»'--•''' 
 
 synopsis of the phases of thp vZTu '^''"■^"^n 
 
 "™" "»■» 'heir homes in Frano.. ..J . u 
 were coming to rive L«„-nl„ ... T **" 
 
 humble mWstrv li! . r* "•*' "' "^^ 
 
 we^ He „ gettmg eve» more Cttoiic tluu. 1 2 
 
 called ta eveoL Hr.oW ^' •*:'' *^'™''^ 
 For the colli«!„„ Tj -^^ "' """k blew about it. 
 
 "™^ 'J^ " « «clion-m«„-, h„„,e 
 
A G>unter-Movement 
 
 bes.de the tra^k. many miles from ..e station. The 
 loss of h,s httle daughter had been the saddest 
 episode m the tragedy, and he and M«. Melgrove 
 were quite lonely without her. That wa« one of the 
 
 cXd"" ^" "^ ""'" P^"*^ ^^^" '^' ^«*«» 
 The visit delighted Maglundy, and made the 
 old man quite genial. Melgiove had the secret of 
 dr«wmg him out. The little nothings of convention 
 ^ not reserved exclusively to the gentler sex: 
 Melgreve was an adept. He insisted on another 
 call froTi Maglundy, which was promised for the 
 following week. Father Sinclair's programme waa 
 being earned out to the letter. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 A Winter Episode in Laurenboro 
 
 rpHE reception given to the Little Sisters by the 
 * citizens of Laurenboro turned out to be an 
 ovation. During the fortnight succeeding the appeal 
 in the Times, the Home, situated just outside the 
 city limits, had been furnished by the voluntary 
 offerings of families in the parish. Wlicn the six 
 exiles from France walked down the gangway of the 
 ten(Jer and stepped ashore, a sudden cheer rent the 
 air. It was taken up by the thousands who stood 
 along the quay; and echoed far beyond. This was 
 the first tribute — a decidedly human but sincere 
 one — given by Laurenboro to a body of women 
 whose self-sacrificing virtues and confidence in God 
 have made them famous throughout the world. 
 
 They were driven to their new home, where they 
 found the Arehbishop, Father Sinclair, and half a 
 dozen tottering oM men, waiting to welcome them. 
 There and then these spouses of Christ bc^an their 
 work among God's suffering poor; and, as the sequel 
 will show, they had not come too soon. 
 
 December was slowly passing away, with its long 
 evenings and its short days, its bleak winds and its 
 
 907 
 
A Winter Episode 
 
 the flakes .^^Zll t '^"- ''°' "^"^ "V' 
 dde, and gave ZmlUr """""'' '""" ^"^ '-> 
 
 » "»til thelri^^ ',: !,'"' """''' ''»™ """S 
 
 li^ed a oaZT ^J^:' ™rr """^P""- 
 clear the streets. "^ ''"' ""I™™ to 
 
 Nearly a thousand responded within two H 
 This army of shovellers was divVlll" . ''^'• 
 
 ■»«rehed to different quartl^ofrh , T"^'' 
 work. Great nio»t. / ™" "' ""e city, wd set to 
 
 "rifts alonT h!?v nl" "TT "'".""^ "-^ "■"' 
 •^ began to ci,x.dat'ir„ , "" *«'« «»-' 
 
 novingl„„„i, 7„r™.'' K?' ^' "">"«'' »«^y ''ere 
 
 'en/andhiturhor'-'^^'-e 
 
 decrees Mo.Z.Zti' """ '""' """" 
 »- intense in GotUngen wlrTTr™?""^ 
 -e^e poorly built and ttetef; '-S" '^'^ 
 
 strike in the PennsX '""',"''"«• The labor 
 
 the price of LlTnl™ T' "^^ '"«' ™*d 
 of f«nilies had ekmrf bv ^'h 'ir""" "«" ">' '»* 
 ^"t. Food andTud ^ft * '"™ ''^ «»» 
 
 «.-^e™„et4Ss:trwX/'— 
 
 A earful scenes mpf ti,-. » ^ ^ 
 
 ^'* *^;^^« °f Father Sinclair in 
 
In Laurenboro 
 
 his daily visits; mothers and their little children 
 crying with hunger and huddled together to keep out 
 the cold. Gaunt poverty, with its sunken cheeks 
 and famished looks, stalked through Laurenboro 
 for the first time in its history. 
 
 It was a sad spectacle this poverty and suffering, 
 rendered sadder still by the contrast that presented 
 itself in the West End of the city, where the roaring 
 hearth, the well-filled larder, the merry laugh, defied 
 the storms raging outside. No sigh of human misery 
 disturbed the stately mansions on Ashbume Avenue. 
 The strains of music which constantly filled their 
 brilUantly-lighted drawing-rooms did not pierce the 
 Umestone walls, nor did they carry an echo to Gottin- 
 gen until the Little Sisters of the Poor b^an to visit 
 the kitchens. 
 
 During the week of the blizzard. Burton and the 
 pastor had gone from house to house and had taken 
 the names of those whose poverty was greatest. 
 They urged Mayor Bruce to issue an appeal in favor 
 of the victims of the storm. A few thousands placed 
 in the Mayor's hands — and promptly handed over 
 partly to a civic committee and partly to the Little 
 Sisters — relieved the distress for the moment; for 
 when the storm had abated and tra£Sc was renewed, 
 the tension was over. 
 
 The editor had headed an appeal for alms in his 
 paper, and in a few days he had nearlv five hundred 
 
A Winter Episode 
 
 111 
 
 ^f / eng^^t '.r~- "■" 'ound .He Siste. 
 
 " Th T • "** or 
 
 fulness?" *^ ^ d^wback to their use- 
 
 "J do not think ^ ♦» 
 
 B"rton. these ate,, ^J/J"«ho« of li„^,,,J 
 
 -derstoodovera wide. Xhtr "^^ "'^"«^''- 
 ,Theedi,„H«tedp„^,;''^"^''-""I-- 
 -inere are two C-^uu • 
 
 Burton modestly replied T,ff^"'^'Sinelair. 
 »«e in the original. '^"' ""' '^ '■«d -o, r^ 
 
 ^ inat old rnan in th^ ^ ^'^' Uie Sister 
 
nil 
 
 In Laurenboro 
 
 batteries right into the enemy's country. "If you 
 do, there is a little Irish Sister down in the kitchen 
 washing the pots " 
 
 Burton threw up his hands and pleaded for mercy. 
 
 "See here, Mr. Editor," urged Father Sinclair, 
 profiting by the discomfiture of his victim, "you 
 belong to a class of men who imagine that English is 
 the ton "ie of the Law and the Prophets. Please 
 broaden your ideas a bit. The Catholic Church is 
 universal. She is not wedded to any nation; nor is 
 she the bond-slave of any tongue. These Sisters 
 are going to beg for the poor. That is enough. 
 One does not need to know Anglo-Saxon to hold out 
 one's hands for alms." Then, pointing to the half- 
 dozen helpless old men and twice as many old women 
 whom the Sisters had already gathered in, he added: 
 "Charity alone will suflice to serve these remnants 
 of humanity and to soften their last days." 
 
 The editor of the Times went away from the 
 Home profoundly impressed with what he had seen 
 and heard. The gentle manner of the Little Sisters, 
 their cheerful resignation, and the poverty of their 
 surroundings; above all, their sincere promise to 
 pray for those who had been kind to them— for 
 him especially — nearly brought tears to his eyes* 
 
 The experiences gone through in the Gottingen 
 blizzard had a telling eflFect on Burton. It was the 
 first time in his career that he had come face to face 
 
 211 
 
A Winter Episode 
 
 with suflfering poverty. The resignation of the 
 Catholics in their misfortune, their patience amid 
 the bitterest pangs of hunger and cold, affected him 
 deeply. 
 
 "How is it. Father, that your people accept those 
 evils with such easy grace?" he asked one night 
 while sitting with the pastor in the cosy glebe-house 
 study. 
 
 "We do not aU do that," answered the pastur. 
 I know Catholics who accept poverty and suffering 
 with anything but resignation. Bui they are not 
 the model ones. A good Catholic accepts the ups 
 and downs of life as coming direct from the hand 
 of God. Plenty or want, heat or cold, sickness or 
 health, a long or a short life, is all one to a Catholic 
 who lives up to the tenets of his Faith. This hfe is 
 only a passing state, Burton-a period of transition, 
 a probation. A true Catholic will not spend his 
 years bewailing the evils that beset him. He knows 
 that the Hand that feeds the sparrows will not pass 
 him by. Does a wise traveller waste his time plucking 
 flowers by the wayside, when he knows that Paradise 
 awaits him at the end of his journey? Keep your 
 eye on the end; that is the only secret." 
 
 This was a new phase of Catholic life about which 
 Burton needed some further instruction. He had 
 already studied the Church as a system of doctrine, 
 and he admired its completeness. All that remained 
 
 m 
 
In Laurenboro 
 
 m I 
 
 for him now was to see how the system worked in 
 the concrete. In order to show him, Father Sinclair 
 did not take him to the West End, where luxury 
 deadened religious influences, but among the Catholic 
 poor of Gottingen Ward during the blizzard. 
 
 Burton's eyes were opened gradually. It would 
 seem that Providence was throwing in his way 
 golden opportunities; and the intelligent editor 
 reasoned : — 
 
 "A Church that can influence men's careers so 
 deeply as to make them live resignedly in poverty, 
 that can bring so vividly to their minds the reality 
 of life beyond the tomb, was to him the only Church 
 of Christ; and she might claim her queenship by 
 right divine in the kingdom of souls." 
 
 This was the kind of religion that appealed to Bur- 
 ton. He had made up his mind, in the hovels of 
 Gottingen, on the step he should take just as soon 
 as Father Sinclair would let him. 
 
 Meanwhile Christmas came with its home joys 
 
 and its sweet souvenirs, with its religious solemnity 
 
 and its season of grace. The old sexton and a few 
 
 ladies of the parish had spent ihe three preceding 
 
 days in decorating the altar, building the Crib, and 
 
 generally touching up things about the church. 
 
 They did their work in fear and trembhng, however; 
 
 for they knew, from ten years' experience, that when 
 
 there was question of decorating his beautiful church, 
 
 213 
 
I 
 
 A Winter Episode 
 
 Father Sindair was hard to please TIip r^fk- * 
 nothing that suggested the painHng „f the Iflv He 
 
 siuid "pmT,'?"'"^ '■''"^^'' '-' -^ »- 
 
 execrable deT P^' "^ '™" P"^». «>» 
 
 .he.ai„a,.a..,;L?J-:a:-Zt 
 eh^ew,I<,«^ va.es, and i,s natural H^ZZ^ 
 
 ^^a„..,u,.n..s,eve.s™phei„ during the' ho^ 
 
 gut mal ing. It „as a praiseworthy one as Inn. 
 ^ .t was exercised wiUun the bounds o^ ™ so^- ani 
 
 g~"u« old. he said, and as he had stowed aZ 
 somewhere seventeen fountain pens, eighth .^e 
 
 »d turn their l:£r:iTi':::t^' 
 
 U. tho^ who desi^d to show hin. a n..rk of S: 
 ^hpsenda few volumes to fte Lau«mb„„ Libr.;. 
 
In Laurenboro 
 
 All anxiety as to " What shall we give him this year ?" 
 would then be ended, and the books would be useful. 
 
 The hint was taken. The day wfter Christmas 
 nearly three hundred books were added to Miss 
 Garvey's stock-in-hand, some of the works being 
 very valuable ; among them several encyclopedias 
 and art collections, which would form the nucleus 
 of a Consulting Section. 
 
 The Caysons had been constantly going to the 
 Library for books. In fact, Clare, whose vocation 
 was decided during the Festival excitement, had 
 become chief assistant under Miss Garvey. The 
 head of the family, a retired banker, had already 
 sent several handsome gifts of books from his own 
 home, and on one occasion, when he called himself, 
 had promised the chief to give her an oil painting 
 to cover up one of the bare walls in the Library hall. 
 It had been in his family for generations, having 
 been brought from Italy by his great-grandfather, 
 Cassoni, a former ambassador. It had been con- 
 sidered valuable, he was told; but time had swallowed 
 up the traditions attached to it. If Miss Garvey or 
 her friends could make any money for the Library 
 by disposing of it, they were welcome to it all. 
 
 The painting arrived at the hall during the week 
 following Christmas. It was a large canvas repre- 
 senting, " Angels watching over the Crib at Bethle- 
 hem," and evidently a work of merit. The skilful 
 
 216 
 
 m 
 
A Winter Epiaode 
 
 <lni™g and the delicate coloring could still U . 
 under the bUckening inHuence^f"^ i^ 'T 
 the artist was, or when the colors we^d!n J 
 
 ;»J^teries that the chie, was g„i„,r^tl;T 
 
 Christmas and its unavoidable «x;ial duHe, dirf 
 
 extra labor of revising the new books only spun*^ 
 her on to greater activity; and by the tin,e the h* 
 
 smoothly again, ,n prepamtion for the rest of ^ 
 that after the first LZ '^ ^'"'^ ^ 'nuch 
 
 -- A^^'rto-troftt-r-^'- 
 
 *o„ghoveratou!::dZ:,tdre:„"tT'^- 
 ":iofru::,--^V"r^"'- 
 
 see if« ;„fl ^* ^"® desired now was to 
 
 see its influence extended; that is, she was J^ 
 to see more books on fi,« i. . anxious 
 
 stantly incls^. /" ^ '^'''^'' *^ °^^* *he con- 
 J increasing demands. But books rnst «. 
 
 «nd where was the money to comeTrlT '"'"= 
 
In Latsrenboro 
 
 The terrific storm of the preceding month had 
 been a set-back; for many small donations which 
 had been promised to the Library went to feed the 
 poor in Gottingen and to buy them fuel. The 
 arrival of the Little Sisters had abo turned many a 
 dollar into another channel. But this did not 
 dampen her courage. She well knew that what 
 was given to the poor was lent to the Lord, and that 
 He would repay with interest. 
 
 Maglundy was becoming an onmivorous reader. 
 Regularly every Wednesday he came to exchange 
 his book. He had confidence in the judgment of 
 Miss Garvey, and, ignoring the lady at the Receiving 
 Desk, he always inquired for the chief librarian. 
 This at last became a source of amusement among 
 the assistants, who, when they saw the old man 
 entering, always notified the chief: — 
 
 "Miss Garvey, here's your millionaire!" 
 
 And the chief was instantly at his service, coun- 
 selling the reading of this book, discouraging that. 
 The returned volume was always the topic of a long 
 conversation. She perceived that he read the works 
 through. For some weeks she had been reserving 
 for Maglundy a volume she very much desired him 
 to read, " D— 19, The True Ministry of Wealth." 
 It was rather a big book, but she would give him the 
 privilege of keeping it out as long as he wanted it. 
 
 " I am delighted. Miss Garvey, to learn that the 
 
 217 
 
A Winter Epf^de 
 
 volume for Wm. "P***^'*"^ « 'ooiang for Ue 
 
 "The Library, so far. Mr. MagJundv h« i_ 
 a veiy gr^t success. But I fear w ?'„ . *^" 
 dose soon." * 'ear we shaU have to 
 
 And she kept on looking for the book 
 How sad ! " exdainwi *i. . • 
 t.»e. "And m7?r^J^.t ""•" • '''''''•'' 
 impeding cU^V ^ '^" " °' "" 
 
 "WaHl of funds to keen !l ...... t 
 
 quickly, „„.«,, bruJly "^-.P- ^ '^'"•«'- 
 
 U^k i I mil fin7- I . ^ " » 'wok tiMl I 
 J 1 mil find interesting— ■Dwio r*. r 
 
 f '""*> "/ '^«^'*-a mtheTTng work- Im .1 
 " . p««y love sto,y n.„ning thr!ugb7i'"-L T. 
 not dare look at Maglundv-",f vT « j ''"' 
 
 ««d it in a week vnn V *"'' ^"" «^"'«« 
 
 renewal." ' ^°'' ""'' ''«P » out without 
 
 book carefull^. "'' '"""'''''^- ' -l"" ««l the 
 
 He shook her hand and left the haU. 
 
 Th! " rlVw'' '■" ""'' ^-^y-' -hewing 
 ^ae YrM« Ministry of Wealth" «,/ ^' 
 
 appeal to the rich to do J^lj^ ' P""'-^"' 
 in life, and not to wait HlwT """'' "'«J' "»« still 
 them. It was th^ 3 , *^ '""' «"'™ »'" 
 y-^ne who „ eonsu^ ^.^ _^ 
 
In Laurenboro 
 
 something for his fellow-men and who tears up his 
 will seven times. He founds several institutions of 
 charity and learning. In the end, he marries and 
 provides generously for his wife. When he dies he 
 leaves the rest of his fortune to good works; but the 
 State comes in and claims nearly half of it for suc- 
 cession duties. The parallel with Maglundy was 
 not quite complete, but the application was evident. 
 
 " If the old gentleman reads that book, as he has 
 promised," thought Miss Garvey, "the pastor may 
 soon be able to buy many more. I am going to get 
 a few thousand out of that millionaire yet." 
 
 And when she set her mind on a thing it was good 
 as done. 
 
 "After all, he is a sweet old soul," she mused, 
 "always so kind and so nice when he comes in here; 
 and he listens so attentively. Perhaps my first im- 
 pressions of him were wrong." 
 
 But the chief did not continue long in this strain 
 of thought. It was silly; and, besides, she never 
 dared mention Maglundy's name in the presence of 
 the other librarians. They always plagued her to 
 death. According to them, she was baiting her hooks 
 to catch a whale; and she was doing nothing of the 
 kind — so she saidt 
 
 210 
 
i' 
 
 Ml 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Brighter Prospects for the Library 
 
 rriHE millionaire's visits to the Melgroves were 
 "*• rc|;ular now. Evf .7 Wednesday evening the 
 familiar step was heard climbing the stairs to the 
 room where the invalid was convalescing. Mrs. 
 Melgrove's Christmas gift to the old man was a 
 handsome pair of prayer beads, mounted on silver 
 wire. 
 
 "And what am I to do with this ?" he asked, when 
 the dainty box was placed in his hands. 
 
 " Say them, of course." 
 
 "But I assure you, Mrs. Melgrove, I d.- not 
 know how," frankly answered the old California 
 miner. "Where am I to begin ?" 
 
 The donor took the greatest delight in explaining 
 the way to him. 
 
 " And when am I to say my prayers on them ?" 
 
 "Every night." 
 
 "Every night!" exclaimed the astonished Silas. 
 "Isn't that too often? I might break them. Are 
 they not too precious to bring them out so often ?" 
 
 "O no, Mr. Maglundy; you must promise me to 
 say your beads evei^' night." 
 
 m 
 
Brighter Prospects 
 
 one M.g.^d.ri^afdtjn'Zrr^''''" 
 liis feUow-citizens- h„t ♦! **" o^en that of serving 
 
 vereitv for pH • ^«^n«>n^Poop" fmm the Uni- 
 
 vereity for cnticizing the inscription. 
 
 gri^vlr'^^^^-^^^^^^Melg^veali these 
 
 "Mr Maglundy." said Melg«>ve after h. l. a 
 listened quite a while to what h^hld h ^ "^ 
 
 times before "tK.^ • ^^^^ ^" ™any 
 
 a^emenT n •! '' "^^ ""^^^ ^«^ t^is discour- 
 
 agement. Don't you think that with that fnrt, , 
 yours you could still ^r ! . fortune of 
 
 citizens? Z.Jtet^'^'^''''''''y--^'-^ioy.- 
 
 ha«l on you tf 1 T ""^^ '^' ^^'^^ ^^ «« 
 
 "" /°"» " you remember was th^ ,.♦♦ i 
 
 - of U,.t founuin dum« XZ^'^Z 
 
For the Library 
 
 to come, and, besides, d' mucb jrood to your fellow- 
 citizens every day in the yeftr. It is cot veiy often 
 that a man drops into t ^old niim . as you have 
 done, and few have the opportuniue:. that are yours, 
 even now. Fountains and such like are all very good 
 in their place; they beautify a city, and make it 
 attractive to live in. But there are other ideals — 
 loftier ones than even fountains." 
 
 " I don't understand you," broke in Maglundy. 
 
 " Some work, I mean, that \\i\\ do good to men's 
 minds and souls rather than their bodies. Drinking- 
 water is an excellent thing, but there is plenty in the 
 Brono, and people can always get it there. Not so 
 with men's minds. In this age, when knowledge is 
 daily widening its bounds, we all realize our limi- 
 tations; we feel the need of further enlightenment. 
 Nowadays, wealthy men are not satisfied with raising 
 fountains. In these gifts there is always lurking 
 some afterthought or other, some subtle self-seeking. 
 Fountains are in most cases monuments raised to 
 their own pride, whereon they have their names 
 carved in bronze or marble " 
 
 Maglundy began to grow uneasy. 
 
 " and people are wise enough to see through 
 
 their scheming. Men of money nowadays have 
 
 learned to be less selfish. They endow university 
 
 chairs; they build colleges; they educate youth for 
 
 the priesthood; they found libraries where people 
 
 223 
 
m 
 
 Brighter Prospects 
 
 "wy have sound resdi„». p . .. 
 -al%™n,i„..,.:f;j^ f^uea^on J, «>« end 
 
 ourselves, wealthy Catholic, wtfc ^ T"' '"""^ 
 cause of the Church. I, fa l ^^ ,^ '«'™"<=» 'he 
 not be too stn>u«ly c„„L, H .u ""^ """ '=™- 
 
 f^ «* of .«x^ :tx ;hv?7- »" 
 
 te had to aim high ffl! . ""' ""^ '^»» l^™ that 
 ■^Honai. out of Lp„t„ft::f '""'■■-«'-"' 
 
 beyond paying our pewi^'^:!!,''? '"' °- Church 
 do that " "^ ■enls-and many don't even 
 
 M^ln":" ""* •^'' '"' -^ pew ye. .. i„te„,p,^ 
 
 Paih^lCa!::"^ [II""'""'. •" «■' -PP-rt of 
 
 dollar for «,mchXweT"1 '" '"' '^'°'^ 
 
 illustrate. The,, t tt „: jtih' °"'"/ ^' - 
 
 Sinclair has oiganized tZ "^ '''" ^'*^' 
 
 Wbuting good^,j'„^- J^"' '^ " noble work, dis- 
 
 •he whX town, and „r; """"^ "" P~P'e of 
 
 being corrupted. TilTTl' ""'" "'"* '«»» 
 
 nink^of the va,t influence it 
 
 '^i,^:^^^ 
 
For the Library 
 
 could wield in Laureaboro. Still, the chief librarian 
 told me a couple of days ago that she may have to 
 
 close the doors *' 
 
 "She told me the very same thing this afternoon," 
 added the millionaire feelingly, " and she is such a 
 fine woman." 
 
 "Not a nobler woman in Laurenboro; devoted, 
 earnest, anxious to do good; and she is now handi- 
 capped for want of money that we laymen should 
 supply her with to carry on her good work." 
 
 Maglundy was in a deep study; he kept puffing 
 away at his cigar. 
 
 "I intend to do something myself in a few days," 
 added Melgrove, growing confidential with a pur- 
 pose. " Mrs. Melgro'- and I have been talking the 
 matter over, and w . not see that Library shut 
 
 down even if we hav .. inortgage our property." 
 
 "Indeed! Mortgage your property!" exclaimed 
 Maglundy. "I should indeed be sorry to see the 
 doors closed, and I am glad that you purpose to do 
 something for Miss Garvey." 
 
 "Of course," replied Melgrove, "one family can- 
 not do all. If three or four of our wealthy Catholics 
 would club together, we could do something to give 
 pleasure to Miss Garvey— don't you think so.'" 
 
 "Nothing would please me more than to give 
 pleasure to the chief librarian," said Maglundy, who 
 found that the conversation had reached danger- 
 
 
 : 
 
 'i- 
 
 
 t.- ■ 
 
 1 
 
 ■ i; 
 
 ■ J. :-■ 
 
 : 
 
 i 
 
Brighter Prospects 
 
 ously practical issues. "What shonW 
 
 sir ? " ^^ *^°"^d you propose, 
 
 Melgrove had his man at bay. 
 
 TO have concluded that Ihe inf . ^' ""' 
 
 thousand dollar--" """*'' "" " '"■-<'«<i 
 
 Maglundy was uneasy again. 
 
 to-dale Cayson In , ' ^"'*"'"'~ ^ibmry up. 
 yesterday, uTtCZ! -^ "' '"^ "^^ "^'o" 
 
 'o «.n«Le .weX7„:s;i ;tv;' 1'? 
 
 Graymers will T Vr,^ ^^lolveys and the 
 
 by any „,ea„s," added Met*;' ''" T "'"'"''"'^ 
 i"« Maglundy s«gh. .^te :^^™"'-*- "" '-k- 
 
 Ine business-like wav il,. . 
 
 put before him fairly J'Z.aT""""' ''"' '^» 
 
 "But in an aS^Ztl^^""\ ""^ "''' «>«". 
 --m; any aclnre^^L*;-,^- --t!"- »« -^ 
 
 "Cerjainly,. answeS lii^T ..t""!'- 
 acknowledgment would be l^l ■ ^' **'' 
 having contributed to a work .h», Tr.'"*^ "' 
 "-he., we are in our gZZ"' """" '«' "<*« 
 
 "And is that all?" a,ked Maglundy 
 Meten>ve-sp^„eeo,mindL„„.^Band„„him. 
 
For the Library 
 
 " Not at all. I should suggest that some acknowl- 
 edgment in the form of a tablet, or something of the 
 kind, should be raised to recall the names of the 
 generous benefactors." 
 
 " I will think the matter over seriously, Mr. Mel- 
 grove. How much did you say Cayson would give ? " 
 
 "Twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 "I am going to think it over," murmured the old 
 man, rising, for his stay had been quite long. "I 
 am deli^f^hted to know that you are improving so 
 rapidly. I think I sLall have to say good-night." 
 
 And Maglundy left. 
 
 " The old man is in the toils, Eleanor," said Mel- 
 grove to his wife, when she brouglit him the Times 
 that night. "He cannot get out of them now." 
 And he proceeded to tell how he had worked his 
 plans. 
 
 "I am sure he will give generously," answered 
 Mrs. Melgrove; " and won't Miss Garvey be happy ?" 
 I think, Eleanor, that Mary Garvey is hypno- 
 tizing Maglundy. Every time I mentioned hei name 
 to-night, the old man's ey«?s glistened." 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove laughed at the conceit. "It may 
 be. I should not put it beyond that shrewd little 
 lady." 
 
 " We should mature our plans as soon as possible," 
 continued the invalid, "with regard to Helen's 
 
 insurance. The sooner we bring things to a head, 
 
 227 
 
 te ul 
 
 M~1B 
 
Brighter Prospects 
 
 The plan of the Melgreves was one thai b^ h 
 the topic for several days. Li,Ue hJ»1 .I'Th 
 
 been^nsureda.ave^^H,.,efo.fi:r.i:i*:^,' 
 uouars. ihe premiums had been fp.fhf ii ". 
 
 te an>o„„t of U,e polio, was now 1 ""'BtLT;^^ 
 sum, the Melfjroves felf that n, besides this 
 
 five thousand'^Lf J- ^t ^^^,^ ^^^^ 
 di«ct heir, and the estate m^ht fall i^';L h 7 
 of people whose ideas differed Wth -^""^^ 
 matter of charitable works ThT }T '° ^'^^ 
 
 deed over to the ll u J ^ ^^"^ ^^"^^^ *« 
 over lo the Laurenboro Library littU. H^i » 
 
 insurance and their own ^n t c . "^'^° ^ 
 
 But .so far it hid h ^^ ' ^^'^""^"^ ^«"«^- 
 
 selves Not etn tlh ^'l^ ?"^* ''^*--" *^- 
 
 onhe.j;;L^-;^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ien thousand doUare would give Ihr I .k 
 footing; but Melg^ve had venter wL L^^riC 
 ■t upon himself to impart them to oSl n t ^ 
 who prevailed on Carajn and r "^ *" 
 
 twent, and ten .honlC^ r^ ' uT^Th C t^"" 
 we« not quite dedded; butT^l Jh- Molve^ 
 thousand frem them TUt ^J ""' "'' '™ 
 
 ^P-bles„mof';;th™t'j"z^C„*;- 
 nchestofthemall w«,.M i • . *^^^"^ay. the 
 
 «ve thousand, .;!-LCtn:ir '--■■'^■ 
 
 •""""""* "'^"'^''""-eed with the old 
 
For the Library 
 
 gentleman?" was Melgrove's last question that 
 night. When sleep overtook him he had not yet 
 found an answer. 
 
 The whole scheme for tlie founding of the Free 
 Library was laid before Father Sinclair next day. 
 It was a pleasant surprise to him, and he immedi- 
 ately suggested incorporation at the coming session 
 of the Le^slature to permit of the acquisition of 
 property. The present site was only a temporary 
 one; the Library could not always stay ^here it was. 
 
 " If the money is provided, we can easily secure a 
 better one"; said the pastor, "and put things on a 
 larger scale. But do you think that Mr. Maglundy 
 will contribute the other twenty-five thousand to 
 the work?" 
 
 "Why should he not?" asked Melgrove. "He 
 has the money, and we are going to do our best with 
 him. My wife suggests that Miss Garvey should use 
 her influence with him." 
 
 Father Sinclair returned to the glebe-house, con- 
 vinced more than ever that the Laurenboro Library 
 was progressing rapidly. 
 
 "God is directing this work," he mused, as he 
 walked up and down the balcony, "and God does 
 all things well." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 The Paiior Etiteitains a Visitor 
 
 "C^ATHER Sinclair's life was a busy one. It was 
 •■• a question his people often discussed, how he 
 could succeed so well in doing all his parish work 
 without the aid of an assistant. He had been re- 
 peatedly ui^ed to apply to the Archbishop for one; 
 but his activity was of a kind that made him feel 
 dehcate about taking such a step. The truth is, the 
 pastor of St. Paul's knew the value of time, and no 
 minutes were lost. The Library had given him 
 some worry in the beginning, but Miss Garvey had 
 such a mastery of details now that his worries in that 
 connection had quite ceased. In fact, the Library 
 and the chief librarian were becoming one and the 
 same thing. Readers no longer said, "they were 
 going to the Library," but, " they were going to see 
 Miss Garvey." The pastor did not object to this. 
 He had the fullest confidence in her ability and tact; 
 and he let her have her own way in everjihing. 
 
 St. Paul's parish, with its sick, and its poor, and 
 its unfortunate, kept him busy. He did not ask his 
 flock to do his spiritual work, but there was many a 
 
 thing they could do, and he let them do it. In these 
 
 231 
 

 ii 
 
 The Paator 
 
 laul kept lum ,n touch with th,. poor. The M 
 knew that he w,s ahv.^ „..,dy ,„ j:^ day^nil 
 
 saved h,m many journey, ,l„..„.,„„.n. Bui, for all 
 lte.h., hfewasabusyone. The ,„.,pec1 i„ ^Jehw 
 
 »-^he.dhyaUcla...hado,adea„ol,:„:;^tl 
 
 found the «que.,t. o ,he people ve,y unreasonable. 
 
 One d.y-rt was ,„ ,h, begi„„i„g of Januarv_he 
 look out his note-book and read:- 
 
 Mrs. O. will Mi: ,:■ 10 „y„i; 
 
 Ctasj^., t .„ . , be „g„rf ,„, M». C.', Khntoto 
 to Royalview riosoitaj. -uuuaaion 
 
 aoth« for Mrs A.'s husband. See Melgrove. 
 
 See Supt W«ton to have H.'s son tran.sferred from 
 
 tTI r.' r. Royalview. CaU at one. 
 
 1 hat Gottingen family-son in trouble again. 
 Card Sec'y Art Club. Friday at seven. 
 Confirmation of Polly M. 
 Burton to-night at eight. 
 Half-ton of coal for 834, Blenheim Square W 
 "^■J^l^^-^- Save;lNanny- 
 Ask Weston for pass for R.'s family to Beaumaris- 
 Ae^^atism-good for three months-private ., if 
 
 Mw.G'8 rent this month. See Melgrove. 
 Gottingen 88. room 9a. Chickenpox. 
 
 S32 
 
Entertains a Visitor 
 
 This was a sample of a half -day's work. He man- 
 aged to keep his engagements well mapped out; but 
 he could scarcely call his time liis own. 
 
 He had just been to see Superintendent Weston 
 of the Great Western about the transfer of Killer's 
 son, and was entering the door of the glebe-house, 
 when Nanny met him. 
 
 "There's a tramp or sumthin' that wants to see 
 your Reverence in the parlor." 
 
 "Very well, Nanny, tell him I'll 1h« there in a 
 minute," said the pastor genially. 
 
 While he was takini); off his overcoat, he mused, 
 " I do hope it is not anotlior of those book agents. 
 Since that Library has been started, my life has not 
 been worth living. 
 
 Father Sinclair looked at his watch. It was half- 
 past eleven, and he had to dine, and be at the hos- 
 nUal at one. 
 
 >Vhen he entered the little parlor, the stranger 
 stood up and held out a trembUng hand. He was 
 tall, rather refined in appearance, with a tired, droop- 
 ing air. He was shabbily dressed, and had a fort- 
 night's growth of beard on his face. A Jeep, red 
 scar like a sword-cut ran across his forehead. In a 
 word, he had the air of a man who had run up 
 against the world, and had got the worst of it. 
 Still, the pastor might be mistaken. 
 
 " Father, I am sorry if I am giving you any trou- 
 
 233 
 
 I 
 I 
 
:|i. i 
 
 L i 
 
 The Pafltof 
 
 We." the stranger began, in a subdued tone. "I 
 
 to 1^^:1.7 '"^ '"'' '"*"-^- H^voirbegan 
 
 lZ7^ "" '" ^"^^ *'""^'^' ^ ^'^ 'n your 
 Libraiy tins morning, and I was told to call on you 
 
 i^re^r;^^'-"^*^^ 
 
 do?' r^f r"^"«' ''^'^^ *^«" began to roll 
 down h,s cheeks. Some g^at tn,uble wt eJden^ 
 weighmg on him. and Father Sinclair made an effort 
 to calm him. It w«« «««» ♦• i_ , ^^ "" cuon 
 could ,«„„,e. ' "°" '^"'^ "■' "™"8er 
 
 O^XT-T ';'"'".'" '"''^' «'•«"« ''<-« •» 
 He nobced thot the parlor door ™ open, and he 
 made a moven,ent a, if to close it; but FatLerSi^ 
 cUur got ahead of hin,. After betag fuUrl '^" 
 th.1 they were quite alone, ho eontinned:- 
 
 I should like to go to eonfessi„;for I feel ih, 
 
 callTTo'""'" ^"'"^ ''" "" P^--- ^ynpalheti- 
 hour." ^ quarter of an 
 
 dantly had conquered the heart of the pastor 
 
 well tU^r' T"^""^ '^' ^^^*°^' "" - just as 
 ''^ell that I speak to you here firet." 
 
 234 
 
Entertains a Visitor 
 
 "Very well, sir. Let me hear your story." 
 
 " I am an utter stranger to you," he began. " You 
 never saw me before. My name is Crookwood, from 
 New York, as I told you. I belong to Father Rin- 
 gard's parish— St. Basil's. I was an altar boy thert 
 years ago, and then joined the choir. It was there 
 that 1 met my wife for the first time." Crookwood 
 subbed convulsively, and he g«sped out, "I am 
 growing faint." 
 
 The man was, in fact, fainting. His face grew 
 livid; his hands closed tightly as if to grasp some- 
 thing; he fell back on the lounge he had been sitting 
 on. The pastor went to the door and told Nanny to 
 hurry with a glass of water. 
 
 "Glory be to the saints!" exclaimed Nanny. She 
 came rushing in with the water and threw a whole 
 cupful into the face of the stranger. 
 
 The shock revived him. He raised his head, and 
 looking around him in a half-dazed, half-terrified 
 state, shouted at the top of his voice:— 
 
 • 'Judge, I did not mean to do the deed ! Heaven 
 knows I did not mean to do it!" 
 
 Nanny was scared to death. The pastor told her 
 to go to the kitchen and keep her tongue quiet. 
 
 Crookwood was now fully conscious, and implor- 
 ingly begged Father Sinclair to tell him what he had 
 said during his fainting-spell. 
 "Nothing, absolutely nothing," answered the 
 
 ^5 
 
 :I"|P 
 
 !ap" 
 
I J 
 
 .:liii ■ 
 
 Hi, a 
 
 The Pastor 
 come to him so unexpectedly. 
 
 would ask your leave to go out into the fields to 
 die. I have no further use for life Wk / . 
 last thing I told you ?» ^^^' ""^ '^' 
 
 choi^^ Y„r "'' ^°"' "^^^ '°^ *^^ fi-t time in a 
 
 "Rouse yourself, sir. Be a man m«t • 
 
 This had the desired effect ^ 
 
 I realty must beg your parion. I fc„„„ i ^„ 
 ^upyo. precious ti.e. Father. itZ^e^ 
 
 ".e poor of the parish. VC^CZLT"" '"' 
 wife and T ko,! " *"® "^use, my 
 
 muL V^^^Tl!"^ ""f "- « pi- of 
 She feU to Z« P""^-""^ «nd struck her. 
 
 jumped on a^ram that was moving out 
 
Entertains a Visitor 
 
 and reached Albany. I spent two days hiding in the 
 freight yard at Troy. A New York paper told me in 
 a column of sensational headings that I was a mur- 
 derer; that the police were on my tracks; that all 
 trains we; watched. I boarded a freight train and 
 reached Laurenboro the day before yesterday. Here 
 I am before you, Father, a wretched murderer; the 
 unwilling slayer of my wife, penniless, with the 
 scaffold staring me in the face. Would it not be as 
 well to jump into the river and end it all?" 
 
 "I must admit that your case is a painful one," 
 said Father Sinclair, who had by this time become 
 deeply interested; "but jumping into the Brono will 
 not improve matters as far as you are concerned. 
 If you are arrested, you will only have to prove that 
 the blow was accidental." 
 
 "Supposing that I cannot , /ove it?" added the 
 visitor, supplicatingly. 
 
 During all this interview Father Sinclair's feelings 
 were quite varied. A cold chill ran down his spine 
 when he realized that he was there alone in the small 
 parlor with a man who had killed his wife with a 
 piano-wrench. But the frank and evidently truthful 
 avowal of how the deed was done, modified his guilt 
 in the priest's judgment and enlisted his sympathies. 
 Father Sinclair felt sorry for him. 
 
 "Mr. Crookwood, I assure you, you have all my 
 
 sympathies. Tell me what you wish me to do for 
 
 287 
 
 J» 
 
The Pastor 
 
 you I am willing to do anything I .^asonably can 
 You look hungry and worn out." ^ 
 
 •.-eif. a. ,he .Urted to'buiid Ih^ ^"""^ '° 
 
 I have bMnUving," continued Gookwood "f 
 tte pa.s. ,„„, .tays on wheat which I fll' in a 
 
 fZ vi ^ " "'■^ ' '^^^ oalled to see you 
 Father. May I ask you a favor?" ^ * 
 
 "Certainly," said Father Sinclair. 
 
 F»,I, n^ " ""^ '"" ""■* '">"''''' fo'-y" to write to 
 Father Ringard and ask hin,, as disc«,ly J ' u 
 
 ^CCht T"" ?'^'"'"'^' '-«'""=<•- 
 
 You shoTd h "^^ """ ''"'' " ™ '" ^o" h™? 
 
 lou should have an answer in three days. I win 
 
 caU the day after to-morrow." ^ 
 
 The veo- reasonableness of the request appealed 
 
 to the pastor. What else could he do butl^e to 
 
 what to undoubtedly knew already. He answered .- 
 
 I will do that, sir. The letter shall go by to- 
 
 n«l.l s nu„l. Meanwhile, here is ten dolta^ .„ ^^t 
 
 y.« out .f present difficulties. You wiUgiveit biS 
 
 x3o 
 
Entertains a Visitor 
 
 when your money arrives." The pastor stood up. 
 " I have other duties to attend to just now. The 
 housekeeper will give you some dinner. Call the day 
 after to-morrow^." 
 
 " Thank you. Father, for your sympathies. When 
 my money comes from Father Ringard, you may 
 take out your ten dollars, and keep some for the poor 
 of your parish in memory of my dear wife." 
 
 The whole interview, fainting-spell, and all, took 
 up over an hour and a half of Father Sinclair's 
 precious time, but it would have been cruel not to 
 help a man so far down as Crookwood. The pastor't, 
 heart went out to such cases, and he did not regret 
 the time he gave to them. 
 
 Nanny did her share in the drama admirably. 
 She prepared a good dinner and brought the man 
 down from the parlor. But she told Father Sinclair 
 when he returned at five o'clock, that ' 'the stranger 
 wasn't so terribly hungry afther all me throuble, and 
 I don't like the looks of 'im, your Reverence." 
 
 "Why, Nanny?" 
 
 "I dunno, your Reverence; but I don't." 
 
 And that was all the pastor could get out of Nanny. 
 
 Father Sinclair went to his study after supper that 
 night and wrote to Father Ringard: — 
 
 Reverend and Dear Father: — 
 
 Crookwood is here. He says the tragedy was alto- 
 gether accidental. The man is evidently sincere; utterly 
 
 2S9 
 
liJi 
 
 l*e Pastor Entertaing 
 
 ^•iii «end on to me hJeVl^T '^'">' ^''-h you 
 
 «,. Howard SiN^,R,pp 
 
 The pastor wallced down t. *u 
 d«>Pped the letter into theZl ^' '***'°" «°d 
 
 -uth. He^tun^edtte ?:^r'*'^"^ 
 ^vi^doneatleastonetrel;::^--^^^^ 
 
 340 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Silas and the Chief Have a Long Talk 
 
 nr^HERE was nothing to do but to wait for the 
 *• letter from New York; and, although the 
 interview cost Father Sinclair nearly two hours and 
 a few emotions, he did not regret the episode, pro- 
 vided it got Crookwood out of his peck of trouble. 
 
 The Library and its prospects were just then 
 occupying the mind of the pastor again. His last 
 interview with Melgrove had shown that others were 
 interested in its success as well as himself. A future 
 was dawning on it more brilliant than he could have 
 hoped for two months since. But the history of this 
 two months' work would justify any eflfort for its 
 extension. 
 
 The two library days a week crowded the Hall 
 with readers, who came to exchange their books. 
 In fact. Miss Garvey and her assistants began to see 
 that they were not able to cope with the numbers, 
 and had thought seriously of having an extra hour 
 or two on Friday afternoons. The proposed innova- 
 tion was laid before Father Sinclair, who simply 
 said: — 
 
 " If the Friday hour is needed to satisfv readers, 
 
 241 
 
^'^ ancf the Chief 
 
 «»t» wiiitag to give tto/T^- "^ y^' ««■•«- 
 
 "I iave .potn ™' ""'''■ "'>'- of their «„,,.. 
 Very „eU; so am I ■• 
 
 'aid the cWefr-tH^ri^'y ^'""'^J' »oming." 
 '»f.e«,pl„yme;,." """■" '""" N'" York loo^ 
 
 "Did you hire him?" i . 
 smiBng. " '""" ^l-ed Father Sinclair, 
 
 ^^yU^T^^"^' "I '"'i »»» like the 
 addl^""'""^ '">--„. perhap,,..h;p^^, 
 
 'ho whole afternoon; a„7t?''""''P'y'>" -ear.; 
 *>f i^m When he wa.;ra b , ' '"" ""'^'^ <«™or 
 
 "Nanny told you a,,^?T 
 about carrying tales " ^ ""»« see Nanny 
 
 r-"t„r^rr"'.«'-«--Hosity 
 
 «« Libwry Hall. ^ '°^''^*^- "alked around 
 
Have a Long Talk 
 
 "Who sent the oil-painting?" he asked. 
 
 "The Caysons — to cover that bare spot. It is 
 supposed to be a masterpiece, and we are to dispose 
 of it for the benefit of the Library. I have already 
 spoken to the artist Wehrbach to clean and re- 
 vamish it. I expect him here one of these days." 
 
 " It may be a Titian," said the pastor. 
 
 "Or, better still, a Raffaele," echoed the chief, 
 who, ever since the painting reached the Library, 
 had been reviewing her art-lore, trying to discover 
 who the painter might be, or whether the work was 
 only a reproduction. She was getting impatient to 
 know what Wehrbach's verdict would be. 
 
 "Is Mr. Maglundy still a customer of yours?" 
 he asked, when they had finished with the painting. 
 
 "A splendid customer! He comes regularly every 
 Wednesday. I expect him here at any moment now. 
 He is as docile as a child; he lets me choose his 
 books for him; and he is growing really amiable. 
 I am going to get a few thousand dollars out of him 
 for this Library before I have done with him." 
 
 " How many thousands ? Try to get twenty-five," 
 said Father Sinclair, with a merry laugh. 
 
 At that moment the services of the chief were 
 needed at the Registration Desk, and off she went to 
 her labor of love. She had the interests of the Li- 
 brary at heart; the pastor felt sure that she would 
 
 have an influence over the old millionaire. But he 
 
 243 
 
'\il !J 
 
 Silas and the Chief 
 
 had decided to let the Melgroves themselves give her 
 the news of the projected foundation. 
 
 When it was nearly time to dose. Maglundy 
 walked mto the Hall, with his book under Us arZ 
 and. as usual asked for the chief librarian. Miss 
 Garvey wished that he would not do that every 
 time; for the .sistants were c-onstantly chaffing her 
 
 t^r M^lt "' ^""" "^* ""^ -^^- 
 
 I hive had ,t out a week, but you gave me the privi- 
 lege of renewal. I have come to renew it. I am not 
 quite through with it." * 
 
 "You might have kept it for another week, with- 
 out renewal. Mr. Maglundy; that is what I said I 
 am glad to hear that ' The True MinUtry of Wealth' 
 has pleasedeyou." continued the chief. "It is just 
 such books that wealthy people should read." 
 
 I f I r"!;/* ''• ^* ^"^ ^^'° °^^ "'^"^ "«^ hints. 
 1 leel it will convert me." 
 
 "I am sure it should." i^ponded the chief, not 
 knowmg whether the old man was poking fun or not. 
 It makes one feel like doing good Morks. like being 
 generous, in fact, does it not?" 
 
 ,^^^'"t''^^'"^^ '^^"* ""'^ '«^«-*^J« t^t runs 
 
 aJ I^.T*^ ^ P^"^^"*- ^ ^"^ "«t ^o>- how it 
 
 ^^ded Did the millionaire and the other charac- 
 
Have a Long Talk 
 
 "Hannah Millner?" suggested the chief. 
 
 "Yes. Did they get married at last?" asked the 
 old man, smiling. 
 
 "O Mr. Maglundy, if I told you that you would 
 lose all interest in the book. You must read it and 
 find out for yourself." 
 
 "I shall, of course. The Free Library continues 
 to be a success, I suppose.'" 
 
 "Tremendous success," exclaimed the chief, who 
 was glad to see the old millionaire taking an interest 
 in it. "But, as I told you last week, we may soon 
 have to close. Look at these shelves — no books — 
 all in circulation — readers going away disappointed. 
 I do not know what we are going to do. I feel our 
 friends will not desert us in this crisis." 
 
 "How interesting! Is Father Sinclair well these 
 days?" 
 
 "Very well, indeed," said Miss Garvey, w'lo 
 could hardly help showing her resentment when .he 
 saw how the little old man quickly changed che 
 subject every time she spoke of the needs of the 
 Library. But she was determined he should not 
 lose the thread so easily. "Father Sinclair is very 
 well, but he feeb just as I do — he fears for the 
 Library." 
 
 "Indeed! I suppose you would need a lot of 
 books to keep you from closing?" 
 
 "We should have at least thnee thousand new 
 
 245 
 
 I"' 
 
 
Silas and the Chief 
 
 volumes at this moment." said the chief, quietly. 
 "Indeed! A large sum of money would be re- 
 quired? Are books dear?" 
 
 "Too dear for our class of readers to buy them. 
 Publishers have a knack of keeping up the prices. 
 I thmk it is a shame the way they sell " 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "When it does not take more than forty or fifty 
 cents to print a book, the prices that we have to pay 
 are altogether too high. Don't you think so, Mr. 
 Maglundy?" 
 
 "But I should fancy," returned the old man. 
 showing his business instinct, "that, when you take 
 large quantities, a rebate is given ?" 
 
 " Certainly there is. But our Libraryr is too small 
 yet to secure all those privileges If we were estab- 
 hshed on a lai^ge scale— as they are over at the Elzevir 
 or at the Humboldt-we could claim all the rebates. 
 Then we could buy whole editions and cirt^ulate them." 
 "How much money would b- required to put your 
 Library on the large scale you should like?" 
 
 The chief was not prepared for so practical a 
 question. But her experience at the Humboldt 
 served her well. 
 
 "I could not say at once, Mr. Maglundy," she 
 replied, settling do^ to business, " but I know that 
 the Humboldt cost the donors nearly one hundred 
 and fifty thousand dollars. Of course, they had to 
 
 «46 
 
Have a Long Talk 
 
 buy the building and reconstruct the interior. That 
 work took nearly a third of the amount. However, 
 I should think," she continued, after reflecting a 
 moment, "that a hundred thousand would put the 
 Laurenboro Free Library in a position to cope with 
 both the Elzevir and the Humboldt." 
 
 "Indeed! These are interesting detaib. I think 
 I shall have to leave you. I will try to finish D — 19 
 this week." 
 
 He started toward the door, and then, turning on 
 his heel, asked Miss Garvey: — 
 
 "I suppose the Elzevir and the Humboldt have 
 given some form of acknowledgment to their bene- 
 factors?" 
 
 The chief paused fcT a moment, and thought, 
 " What does he mean ?" But it suddenly dawned on 
 her, and she hastened to answer: — 
 
 "O yes; a marble slab stands in the hallway of 
 the Humboldt, with the names of the donors inlaid 
 in golden letters." 
 
 ' Indeed!" said the old millionaire. "It was put 
 there — not for the donors' sake, I suppose; but, you 
 understand, it encourages others when they see how 
 generosity has been recognized." 
 
 "You vain old thing!" thought Miss Garvey; but 
 
 she assured him, " No, sir; it was put there for the 
 
 donors' sake; and that is what I should do here were 
 
 such a windfall to come." 
 
 247 
 
 P 1 
 
■« 
 
 Silas and the Chief 
 
 "Should you?" he asked, sweetly. 
 
 "Most certainly; and not your common marble 
 either, but the purest Carrara. Or, better still, a 
 bronze tablet, with raised letters on it, that would 
 resist the wear and tear of ages." 
 
 Maglundy shook hands with the chief and went 
 home. 
 
 The assistants were waiting for her at the Receiving 
 Desk as usual, and were dying to know the gist of the 
 long cohversation. But Miss Garvey simply said:— 
 " Bail' \g the hookd. Great schemes. Wait, ladies." 
 Th<; ladies did not want to wait. Imagine a whole 
 k, and perhaps longer, without news of the Ma- 
 g'undy-Garvey schemes. It was allogether too much 
 to ask them to do; and they were quite resentful. The 
 chief would give them no further information; so 
 they went home at loggerheads with her. 
 
 Miss Garvey started down town to the Royalview 
 bookstore, and bought a copy of ''The True Ministry 
 of J^'eo/^A," gilt-edged and morocco-bound. She wrote 
 in it "With the compliments of the chief librarian of 
 the Uurenboro Free Library," and then ordered 
 the messenger to take it that very night to the comer 
 of Howarth and Buell Streets. 
 
 She had had no inkling as yet of the Melgrove- 
 Sinclair-Cayson-Graymer-Molvey scheme; nor did 
 she know tiU later how well she baited her hooks 
 that day. 
 
 S48 
 
CHiVPTER XXII 
 The Capitulation of Burton 
 
 THE Timea that same evening famished inter- 
 esting reading to Father Sinclair. A letter from 
 young Newell asked the editor to put the public on 
 their guard against a plausible impostor who had 
 victimized the Elzevir to the extent of fifty dt»llars; 
 he represented himself as a librarian from New York, 
 stranded in Laurenboro. Another letter from the 
 Superintendent of the Great Western asked him to 
 warn the public against a notorious character who 
 was passing himself off as the master mechanic of a 
 wes ra road and had collected nearly two hundred 
 dollars from the men in the shops. A third letter 
 from the minister of the Hayden Street Tabernacle 
 invited the public not to listen to a villain who is 
 posing as the murderer of his wife, and who, with 
 a view to obtaining money, may try to work on the 
 sympathies of Laurenboro. 
 
 Father Sinclair put the paper down. 
 "That beats Bannagher!" he exclaimed. "He 
 worked on mine to the extent of ten dollars. The 
 arrant rascal. And what a consummate actor. 
 Nanny, Nanny, come her.' (|uick!" 
 
 24» 
 
The Capitulation 
 
 The housekeeper ran upstairs, thinking the house 
 was on fire. 
 "Did you call me, your Reverence?" 
 "You were right, after aU, Nanny. That was an 
 impostor we had fainUng in the parlor yesterday." 
 "I know'd it, your Reverence; I know'd it." 
 "How did you know it?" 
 "Idunno. There was sumthin'!" 
 "Nanny, you are wiser than your parish priest. 
 He deceived me." 
 
 With this testimony to her perspicacity, Nanny 
 went back to her kitchen prouder than if the pastor 
 had been made a bishop. 
 
 The Elzevir, the minister, and the railway super- 
 intendent had wired to the Gotham Merchants' for 
 mformation, and the answer to all three was: "Im- 
 postor; no such man known here." 
 
 But Father Sinclair could not get over the fainting- 
 spell as a scheme for obtaining money. In the light 
 of after events, things became plainer. It would have 
 been so easy to get back the loan when the money 
 arrived from New York. However, the ten doUars 
 were gone; but there was still a letter to come from 
 Father Ringard. It came the following day :— 
 Dear Father Sindatt:— 
 
 I an mystified at the use of my name in this affair. 
 There IS no Crookwood among my parishioners. There 
 has been no murder committed in this part of the dty 
 for years. To gratify you, I 'phoned to the Gotham 
 
Of Bttrton 
 
 Merchants'. There is no such name on their pay-roll. 
 You are evidently being hoaxed. How much did you 
 give him ? Yours sympathetically, 
 
 W. F. RiNGARD. 
 
 "Hoaxed," was the word, and ten dollars was the 
 price. Burton was in the post-oflSce while Father 
 Sinclair was reading the letter. 
 
 ' 'Did you see last night's Times about the clever tramp 
 who is prowling around Laurenboro?" he asked. 
 
 "Read that," answered the pa.stor, handing the 
 editor the letter. 
 
 Burton nearly dropped to the pavement with 
 laughter. 
 
 "What, you caught, too, Fath-r?" 
 
 " Of course, I was caught. Who would not be .» 
 That man is a genius. It was worth ten dollai^ to 
 see him in the fainting-scene." 
 
 Burton invited himself to the glebe-house at seven, 
 and the pastor went home, more determined than 
 ever to carry out his resolution, so often made and 
 so often broken, to let Nanny take care of tramps. 
 However, he could not get it out of his head that 
 there were exceptional tramps — and that Crookwood 
 was one of them. 
 
 Burton's visit that evening was an eventful one — 
 for Burton. He formally asked Father Sinclair to 
 receive him into the Catholic Church. 
 
 "Do you realize all that your request means?" 
 
 "I think I do, Father." 
 
 951 
 
The Capitulation 
 
 The pastor handed him a " Profession of Faith" to 
 glance over. The editor perused it carefuUy, and 
 answered: — 
 
 "I see no difficulty in all this. I have seized the 
 idea of an infalhble Church ruUng the spiritual 
 world. That argument of youre— the Church can- 
 not en--has made everything easy. She has God's 
 pledge for it. All this must then be true. Because 
 the Church cannot err, if she told me that black was 
 white, I would believe it. and would say that my 
 sense of sight had failed. I admit that there are 
 many dogmas of the Catholic Faith—the Real 
 Presence, for exampl^that are beyond my com- 
 prehension, but I realize that in this life, with our 
 finite intellects, we cannot know everything; just as 
 we cannot see and hear everything, because our 
 sight and hearing are limited. We should have 
 quite a contract on hand were we to undertake to 
 sound God's mysteries with our short tape-line." 
 
 " That is the way to reason. Burton." retunied the 
 pastor. "But you can appreciate the difficulties of 
 people who would join the Church, but who will not 
 submit their reason to her infalUble teaching. And 
 with that hideous Reformation cloud continually 
 before them, and the presence of so many warring 
 sects in the worid, all clamoring for recognition, you 
 can understand how the difficulties are increased. 
 The Church does not err; never erred; cannot err. 
 
 3Si 
 
Of Btsrton 
 
 In the sixteenth century it was not her dogmas 
 that needed reformation, but the lives of a few of 
 her children." 
 
 " It was those visits to Gottingen Ward, during the 
 blizzard last month, that put the finishing touch to 
 my case," said Burton. 
 
 "Well, I congratulate you. I have been looking 
 for this for some time. You shall be received into 
 the Church whenever you like. Do you wish to do 
 the deed publicly or privately?" 
 
 "Any way you please, Father. Name the date, 
 and the hour and I will be on hand." 
 
 "Then by all means let us have it in public. 
 You might read your Profession of Faith next Sun- 
 day before the nine o'clock Mass; receive your first 
 Communion on Monday; and I feel sure the Arch- 
 bishop would confirm you in St. Paul's a week from 
 Sunday. How would that programme suit you ?" 
 
 "Perfectly; and I thank you heartily." 
 
 The following day was Saturday. The Times 
 
 published this simple note: — 
 
 Mr. Hiram Burton, editor of this paper, 
 will abjure the Protestont tenets at the nine 
 o'clock Mas% to-mcMTOw, in Saint Paul's 
 Church. 
 
 It was printed in small type in the "Personal 
 Column." But everybody reads the Personal Col- 
 umn—it gives people so much to gossip about. 
 
 S5S 
 
The Capittilation 
 
 The cunosity of Laurenbom was amused; and on 
 Sunday monung St. Paul's CathoHc Church was 
 crwded. Maglundy had been invited by the pasT" 
 and was m his pew. Not a murmur was heard while 
 he neoph^e was reading in a clear voice the long 
 formula. When he placed his hand on theBiblean^ 
 with an accent of conviction, swo,^. "So help me 
 God and these His Holy Gospels." the .iW of 
 the tom|b rested on the r^eople. 
 
 The pastor took occasion of the event to say a few 
 telling words on the obligation of seeking the truth 
 and the further obligation of emb„.cing ft fearllly' 
 
 m^nd that followed one's entrance into the Sholic 
 Church, thanked God for the noble example that 
 had been set this morning, and asked prayer, for him 
 who was to seal his covenant on the foLwing day 
 by receiving the Bread of Angels. 
 
 Maglundy left the church immediately after the 
 sermon. Many of the congregation, who were awai. 
 of his antipathy to the editor of the Times, made 
 their surmises : so much so that his exit was the topic 
 of conversation after Mass. But Father Sinclair 
 who knew the old man better than any of them. 7Ii 
 that there must have been some other i^ason for his 
 going out. Maglundy did not cany his antipathy 
 that far. The pastor knew he was deeply wounded' 
 but he also knew that he hated no man on earth. 
 
Of Barton 
 
 If Burton were to extend the hand of friendship, the 
 old miner would be the first to clasp it. They had 
 never met. There could be no rivalry between them. 
 Burton had brains; so far Maglundy had shown that 
 he had only money, and had been foolish with it. 
 That more than anything else accounted for the 
 trenchant pen of the one, and the injured feeUngs 
 of the other. 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove called at the glebe-house to tell the 
 pastor that the gentlemen interested in the Library 
 had had another meeting, and that the prospects 
 were never so brilliant. A third meeting would be 
 held on Monday, to which the pastor was invited. 
 ]Mr. Maglundy was also to be there to meet Cayson 
 and the rest of them. 
 
 "May I bring Mr. Burton?" asked Father Sin- 
 clair. " I am anxious that he should meet Maglundy ; 
 just as I am anxious to get the editor interested in 
 our works as soon as possible." 
 
 Burton went over with the priest to the Melgroves, 
 and there met old friends, who congratulated him 
 on the recent event. Everybody knew Burton. For 
 years he had been the best known man in Lauren- 
 boro. A brilliant writer, he had brought the Times 
 up to its present literaiy standard; a conscientious 
 journalist, he had made it the terror of evil-doers and 
 shams. The interests of Laurenboro were always 
 uppermost with Burton. He was a poor man, but 
 
 "Aoo 
 
The Capitttlation 
 
 «n honorable one, and he woi.W i^. 
 
 qufaition .. the <M,::^^.r""''>'^ - 
 
 Tlwt is why he wm «> » 1 ^ metropoBs. 
 
 ■^Konai^. „he„ « note adZ^:^' ^^^ '<"«■« 
 anived, which cast a doom „v ^ * ''™*''» 
 
 '".m the house ^ur^^Z^TZT^'u'' '" 
 'o say that Mr. Sii mZ, a ,"'"'* ""^PiW 
 thither that aftern^^ ZT " ^ '^ '*"'»«'' 
 
 the Mejves- ,haT:^e4 ""' "^"^ "" " 
 
 with^'Z."" """•" ^^ »"*"= "■•' -y g. h«^ 
 That was the sentiment of all present „f 
 
 -ho.d^heinthepHva.etrw'^^t 
 
 "Gentlemen, that explains his leavmg the church 
 y-terday mommg, does it no. ?" ventuJd ftl Z^ 
 when he returned to the d«w.,^.^„. ^'"' 
 
 ».yi ^ell ITS' " '^"■'« ■■"*-^P--«on: but ^ 
 ^d,J|ddress.ng himself ehieiiy to the priest, he C 
 
 25G 
 
Of Burton 
 
 "We had a meeting here on Friday last, and we 
 came to some very practical conclusions in connec- 
 tion with the Library scheme. Fifty thousand dollars 
 are assured. 
 
 " Mr. Robert Cayson will contribute twenty thou- 
 sand dollars; Mr. David Graymer, ten thousand; 
 Mr. Hugh Molvey, ten thousand; Mrs. Melgrove and 
 myself, five thousand; Helen's insurance, five thou- 
 sand. 
 
 "That makes altogether a good round sum," 
 continued Melgrove. "We had intended to-night 
 to bring the pressure of example to bear upon our 
 friend Mr. Maglundy, whom, however, Providence 
 is reserving for another occasion. The matter, even 
 as it stands now, is quite satisfactorj-. With the 
 interest of fifty thousand safely invested, we ought 
 to be able to do something worthy of our Church and 
 our city." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Father Sinclair, "this is very 
 satisfactory, and as the representative of St. Paul's, 
 I thank you. I should suggest that a committee be 
 appointed to see to the investment of the money and 
 have an eye on expenditures. We all realize that the 
 present site, however valuable it was to begin the 
 work with, is, under altered conditions, no longer 
 suitable. A large building will have to be secured, 
 centrally situated, and easy of access for all classes 
 both in winter and summer." 
 
 857 
 
The Capitulation 
 
 '•Where would you suggest?" asked Cayson. 
 "I should fancy some place in the neighborhood 
 of Howarth Street," answered Father Sinclair. The 
 site was a central one, and had appealed to him 
 frequently during the years he was oiganizing his 
 Young Men's Club. 
 
 "That's where our friend Maglundy lives," inter- 
 rupted Burton. "The different lines converge on 
 Howarth Street." 
 
 "Excellfent idea," added Graymer. "I think 
 Father Sinclair's suggestion should be carried out; 
 and before we proceed further, I beg to nominate 
 Messrs. Melgrove, Cayson, Molvey, and Father 
 Sinclair, to act as a committee pro tern." 
 
 "I move in amendment," said Melgrove, "that 
 the name of Mr. Graymer be added to the list." 
 ^^ "If I may be permitted," interrupted the pastor, 
 "I should like to move an amendment to the amend- 
 ment, namely, that the name of the editor of the 
 Laurenboro Times be added to those already 
 given. Solid reasons, gentlemen, uigc me to make 
 this motion. Mr. Burton, even as a non-Catholic, 
 always showed us fair-play. Now that greater light 
 has been given him, his services will be all the more 
 precious to us." 
 
 Both amendments were carried unanimously, and 
 the Committee decided to be?in quietly to select a 
 site. There was no hurry. The foundation of the 
 
 258 
 
Of Burton 
 
 Library was now assured, and it was to the advan- 
 tage of the work to secure the best possible terms all 
 along the line. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Melgrove, when the motion 
 was put to adjourn, "there is a newspaper man in 
 the room." All laughed. "Don't mention our 
 plans yet, Burton. You may say that fifty thousand 
 dollars have been donated to the Laurenboro Free 
 Library. That will be enough to set the citizens 
 a-talking and, perhaps, the Directors of the Elzevir 
 a-thinking." 
 
 The meeting being over, the gentlemen went to 
 their homes, and Father Sinclair took a sleigh for 
 the Providence Hospital. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Hie Millionaire Sees Things from a New 
 Standpoint 
 
 r|iHE Providence was one of the prominent insti- 
 ■■■ tutions in Laurenboro. Duiing the thirty 
 years of its existence, the Sisters in cliarji;e liad cared 
 for the sick, r^ardless of creed or c'ondition. The 
 heroism of their charity at tlie bedsides of the dying, 
 during all those years, had touched many hearts 
 hardened by sin and miserj', and gave their work 
 the special character of a ministr)' of souls. But 
 their zeal in this direction earned for them from a few 
 officious bigots the charge of sectarianism; and, not- 
 withstanding Father Sinclair's efforts to secure 
 Government aid for them, they who gave their lives 
 and services for the public good were denied a share 
 in the public funds. However, they did not lack 
 public sympathy. Relying for their support on the 
 income derived from their private patients and from 
 the interest accruing to them from a few thousands 
 left as a legacy, the Sisters had kept their institution 
 in the lead, in spite of a large and fully-endowed city 
 hospital in the North End. 
 
e 
 
 The Millionaire Sees Things 
 
 The private apartments, thanks to the generosity 
 of a few fam.he«. were models of elegance and were 
 equ,pp<.d with all home comforts. Ro„m H had 
 long been known as the cosiest room in the sunrical 
 ward of the Providence. And it would have re- 
 mamed so probably, had not the danger of h.rking 
 germ.s obliged the Sisters to keep pace with moder!; 
 methods. Hare floors, glass tables, antiseptic wall- 
 paper. ge;.micidal linen, and the dozens of other 
 ind«pensable needs of recx-nt science replaced the 
 heavj' carfK^ts and rich curtains, which had given 
 the httle room its home-Hke aspect. Happily; the 
 golden sunlight streamed in. unimpeded, even in 
 tlJe shortest days of winter. 
 
 Maglundy was in bed. and apparently suffering 
 great pam. He held out his hand to Father Sinclair 
 I am so glad you have come to see me. Fawther " 
 said the old man. 
 
 The sympathetic pastor expressed surprise at the 
 sudden turn things had taken, and asked what the 
 pliysicians purposed doing. 
 
 "They are going to operate the day after to- 
 morrow; and they tell me I shall be all right after- 
 wards. But I am afraid I shall not get over this 
 1 am an old man, and I fear that the end has come." 
 Alaglundy heaved a heavy sigh. 
 Father Sinclair tried to banish these thoughts 
 from his mind, and told him he should call on the 
 
 382 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 morrow. It was, very possibly, only a passing indis- 
 Ix)sition he intimated; but it was customary for 
 people about to undergo operations to sett' up their 
 accounts with the Master of Life before th<y went 
 to the sui^eon's table. 
 Maglundy heaved another sigh. 
 "Of course," added the priest, lliis is only a 
 precautionary measure. Undenv.In^ Kjieratioris 
 nowadays, with our improved sur'^ual itoilioUi.. is 
 an easy matter. Still, it is always mvW to U- n the 
 safe side." 
 
 The patient saw the l<^c of the argun.- nt, aiH 
 said he should be glad if the priest called to sec him 
 the next day. 
 
 "But I am afraid to die — ^just think of it!— lo 
 die — to leave this world forever!" The old man 
 groaned. 
 
 "You are not going to die, Mr. Maglundy," said 
 Father Sinclair, buttoning his fur coat. "I shall 
 call to-morrow, after the doctors have made their 
 
 rounds. Meanwhile, look over your past life " 
 
 "My past life!" exclaimed the patient. "My 
 whole long life, with its years and years! How shall 
 I ever begin the task?" 
 
 " I will give you all the help you need," answered 
 the pastor, who rose to leave the room, saying, as he 
 closed the door, that he would think of him in the 
 morning during Mass. 
 
 . 86S 
 
 1} 
 
The miionaire Sees Things 
 
 "Thank you. Fawther. But I am afraid to die- 
 to die-to leave all!" And he continued this refrain 
 audibly while the priest was walking down the 
 corridor. 
 
 The worm of remorse had begun its work. It 
 needed some fell blow Uke this to bring the old miner 
 to a sense of his duty. It had come at last; and the 
 pastor was going to profit by the occasion to make 
 Maglundy, straighten up his accounts with his 
 M^er. He told the Sistei^ to call him if the patient 
 in Room H became worse during the night, and went 
 home sympathizing with the present plight of the 
 old millionaire, who realized vividly at last that gold 
 mines and Trans-Siberian stocks do not --ve one 
 immunity from death. 
 
 There was no immediate danger, "only an inor- 
 dinate fear." the physician 'phoned to Father Sin- 
 clair, who set himself immediately to give further 
 thought to the Library scheme-a scheme that was 
 progr^smg beyond his most sanguine expectations. 
 He addressed cards to the various publishers for 
 their latest catalogues, and to other libraries for 
 their rules and reguktions. He proposed making 
 the Uurenboro Free Library a model in everv 
 respect. The addition of the Reference Section 
 devoted to controversy, and a large Reading Room 
 entered into hi, plans, and was quite decided 
 upon. 
 
 am 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 He was about to retire for the night when Nanny 
 brought him a note that had been in her pocket since 
 the early morning. It was from Miss Garvey, who 
 was apparently beside herself with joy. Wehrbach 
 the artist had examined the Cayson painting, and 
 had pronounced it worth its weight in gold. 
 
 " Just think of it," she wrote in a postscript, "worth 
 its weight in gold!" 
 
 " I wonder whether Wehrbach included the frame 
 in this," mused the pastor, smiling. "However, 
 Wehrbach is a first-rate authority, and his opinion is 
 worth something. There may be truth in what he 
 says. If so, we can afford to wait." 
 
 The following morning he went over to the studio 
 and interviewed the artist himself. 
 
 "Yas, dot iss a miasterpeez, vor zertain. I haf 
 nod it cleaned yed. But you gan vor yourzelf zee. 
 Loog ad dot grouping, undt dot raccourci, undt 
 dot lighd undt shade. Id vill dake me two or dhree 
 tays to ged dot famish off, I may zome name zee, 
 undt dot vill zettle id." 
 
 Father Sinclair's own critical tastes had told him 
 all this before; there had been no reason, at least for 
 the moment, for the enthusiastic note of the chief 
 librarian. 
 
 " I hope that you will discover that it is a Corr^gio. 
 
 It looks like his work," said the pastor, smiling, as 
 
 he was leaving the studio. 
 
 365 
 
The Hfflionaire Sees Things 
 
 The enth„.ia,tic Ab.U«„ had „„, ,i„e to complete 
 hs .^marks; or Father Sinelair had sUrted fof^e 
 IW.de„oetokeep hi. appointment .ithMagl^ndy 
 
 The patient had pas«d another sleeol J ^li 
 
 :: z "'" '" r' '^- "^-^ p-'^^ott^^ 
 
 -y Ume .„ p^hnnnarie,. but went rt^ht to the 
 
 You will make your confession now To mo^ ' 
 ■non^ng I ,ha.. bring you Holy Comn,u,^r?n: 
 then you will be ready for >he option." ' 
 
 ifte old man was in an axronv for ho K ^ k 
 ^ing .h„„gh an o^eal ^^'JZ^^.^ 
 
 ^thatomerephysical pain-he hadbeenVng" 
 
 b«^k over a peri«l of forty yea. of absolute r^li^!: 
 
 H« Church ,h,riced one's «sponsibihties. »„„„.d 
 one 8 oblicrations whilo th^ ^ t . 6""'^« 
 
 thrust intn *h I' , "*""' sanctions so long 
 
 thrust into the background keep forcing themselves 
 
 -tlltnttn ^^^'^ ^^^'^ «'^ ^ineH:^^ 
 r^HessI> m h,s bed, acts long since foi^otten, deeds 
 
 youth and early manhood passed before him Iik;a 
 
 86d 
 
Frcm a New Standpoint 
 
 nightmare. As far back as he could look down the 
 long vista of years, he seemed to see God hstening 
 to words, sounding thoughts and weighing motives 
 which were in opposition to His laws. How very 
 long the list appeared! And yet, after such a lapse 
 of years, how many things there must be which he 
 had foi^otten, but which were all posted up against 
 him in his page of the Book of Life ! How he wished 
 he could get but a glimpse at that dreadful page and 
 see what the Recording Angel had marked down 
 against him during the long years he had lived away 
 from God! How different the world seemed to him 
 now that he was in danger of leaving it. How plainly 
 he saw that all his life long he had been avoiding 
 the only realities in order to run after shadows. 
 
 The patient turned to the priest, who was putting 
 on his purple stole, and with a look of supplication, 
 asked : — 
 
 "Fawther, how am I to begin? I am utterly 
 helpless." 
 
 But he was taken in hand there .md then, and in 
 less than half an hour the pa.stor was on liis way back 
 to the glebe-house. 
 
 That evening the Sisters prepared a little altar in 
 Room H, with candles and crucifix. When Ma- 
 glundy heard the tingle of the bell next morning, 
 and the recital of prayers in the corridor, he made 
 an effort to get out of bed and throw himself on his 
 
 967 
 
tit Hfl6ooaJre Sees Things 
 
 !^^™v *". "'""'' 'T' *"' ""• ""' "<" '»"' ""-^ 
 
 ordered him to sUy where he was 
 
 A few miautes later the old miner received Hie 
 Br^ of Angel, f„, ,he fir., time i„ f.,rty7el 
 Father SinoUdr told Urn .„ p^fi, b, ,fc,''^.tr, 
 ojoment. during whieh the Di.ine Oue,. C^Z 
 turn "d to ask God to give him b-k again Z 
 faith of hi, thUdhood. ^ 
 
 The suigical operation w«, a simple one. The 
 pafent w«. weak from fear of death mther th.,' 
 fn,m an, other e.„,e. When he ,«„ve«d !««, th 
 ^eet, of the ether, and found him«,,f alive an,! bael 
 S. "■ """"l "• "' 'P'"'" -"^^I- The old-tiJ: 
 
 bmught h,m m a large bouquet of bleeding-heart.,. 
 
 ^Ir" "^"""^ "■' '^■"-"■- "' -He ohie; 
 
 "That dear ehief," he murmured, while the 
 
 •rr/°" l""^ '"'' °" "'° "I" '-We him, 
 
 lat. W 7". ' "'"' "'"' -^ *'» '■'"«'»■»« book 
 last Wednesday. May God bless her'" 
 
 The old millionaire clo.sed his eyes and fell .sleep, 
 
 H s recovery was assured. It took mo« than an 
 ^t«k of appendicitis to shake the vigo^us f«me 
 of . Calfomm mmer. But it was evident from his 
 oonversahons and his new views „f things that a 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 spiritual revolution had taken place. Maglundy 
 was a chained man. 
 
 Father Sinclair was his closest friend after that. 
 Every day the fkastor came to see him; the same 
 smile of welcome always greeted his entry into 
 Room H. 
 
 *' I got the fr^ht of my life the day the ambulance 
 came after me to bring me here," returned Ma- 
 glundy, a few days later, to the priest who had seated 
 himself for a short talk. " I once fell fifty feet down 
 a shaft in California, but it was nothing to the scare 
 1 got last Monday." 
 
 "What scared you ?" asked the pastor. 
 
 "Death, of course!" exclaimed the old man, vig- 
 orously. " Just think of my dying in the state I was 
 in after forty years of wickedness." 
 
 " But that is all foi^otten now, 1 trust. God has 
 given you a great grace." 
 
 " And one that I am not going to foi^et. Fawther, 
 I have turned over a new leaf. 1 understand now 
 why you were so anxious about me and about my 
 going to church. But you were not severe enough. 
 Old sinners like me should be taken by the coat 
 collar." 
 
 "We are only God's instruments," replied the 
 
 priest. " We can suggest, ui^e, exhort ; but men have 
 
 their free will. All we can do is to leave them to 
 
 themselves and to God's grace." 
 
 t269 
 
The Maiionairc Sees Things 
 
 shn m"^'?* ^"'^'" P""^'*"^ *^" P^*'«"t' "but there 
 should be strong remedies to meet desperate coses." 
 
 Mag undy. If we chide them privately for their 
 s nful hves, they a,, insulted; if we p Jch them a 
 strong sermon from tho pulpit, they go away offended, 
 and threaten, some of them, to leave the Church 
 They never consider that their eternal inter^ts are 
 at stake and that this is the motive that u^es us to 
 speak, ft IS very often at that moment that God is 
 good enough to take them in hand. He sends them 
 some severe trial or shock to bring them back to 
 meir senses. 
 
 "He sent me one. didn't He.'" echoed the patient. 
 
 TTie past hree days had evidently begun an epoch 
 in the hfe of the millionaire. ^ 
 
 Father Sinclair had "The True Ministry oj Wealth" 
 .n h,s hand, admiring its rich binding and the dedi- 
 eahon on tn. fly-,eaf. when the door opened gently 
 
 time ;■ '""" 'r^'* '" ^ '-^ l^u,uet-,;L' 
 
 "Isn't she a fine, good woman?" remarked 
 Maglundy. when he read the card and handed it to 
 me pastor. 
 
 ^he ,8 doing a great work in that Library; and before 
 long she will be able to do much mon-." 
 
 270 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 "How's that?'" asked the patient, almost sitting 
 up in his bed. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Maglundy, you disappointed 
 Melgrove and the rest of us last Monday. The very 
 day you were taken ill, a meeting of our five leading 
 Catholics, with our new convert Burton, was held 
 at the Melgroves', and they decided to contribute 
 fifty thousand dollars to put the Library on a perma- 
 nent basis. It was a dreadful disappointment when 
 the note came from the physician to say that you 
 liad been brought here." 
 
 "And what else did they decide?" asked the 
 patient, intently. 
 
 "To ask you to be one of the founders with them. 
 They wish to raide seventy-five thousand, and they 
 look to vou, as the wealthiest, for tlie other twent\- 
 five thousand " 
 
 "They shall have it, Fawther," replied the old 
 man earnestly. "The danger of death I was in — 
 when I think of the escape I had! — has taken away 
 all value from money for me. All rank nonsense, 
 Fawther! And they can have more if they need it." 
 
 "This is very kind of you, sir. You should notify 
 Mr. Melgrove. The gentlemen interested in the 
 work could come to some decision as to plans. 
 This generous gift of yours would bring maUers to 
 a head all the more quickly." 
 
 " Is Mr. Melgrove able to be out yet ?" 
 
 i71 
 
The Millionaire Sees ThingB 
 
 .n/f^ '^\^''^' "*'''^''^'' ^ ^^«" ««k h« Wife 
 and the chief Ubrarian to caU on you." 
 
 "T^t dear chief!" sighed the invalid. "Even 
 day she sent me flowers. What can I do for her' 
 How can I show her my gratitude? Has Mis« 
 <jarvey any relatives, Fawther?" 
 "None whatever." 
 
 "Shall you !,e surprised if I tell you that I have 
 serious thoughts of settling down in life.>"-it was 
 an old man of sixty who was speaking-"you do 
 not know what a lonely life I led in that big house 
 on Howarth and Buell Streets." 
 
 Father Sinclair seized the whole situation in a 
 twmkhng. It eame to him suddenly-like the tradi- 
 Uonal thunder-dap. The veiy thought of a possi- 
 We romance between the old millionaire and his 
 chief hbranan was startling enough to one who 
 had been accustomed to such surprises all his life- 
 but It startled him rather for its pn>saic features' 
 This was not a case of snowy December and youth- 
 ful May joining hands and trusting to the future for 
 tair weather. It was rather sturdy December link- 
 ing fortunes with mellow August, the month that 
 comes just before "the sere, the yeUow leaf." 
 
 The prospect was rosy enough. It was of that 
 subdued tmt which the knowing ones look upon as 
 a good fast color. Mary Garvey had long since lost 
 the illusions of youth. From the fact that she was 
 
 272 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 living as far back as the Civil War — no one ever 
 dared to investigate further — it could fairly be pre- 
 sumed that the day-dreums of early years had left 
 her. She was now a staid little Indy of an age tu 
 be a cheering helpmate for an old millionaire in the 
 autumn of his days. So the pa.stor could not, for 
 the life of him, see any objection to .such a union. 
 
 But this was only idle speculation. From the 
 very first year of his ministr)'. Father Sinclair had 
 resolved that match-making should never be of his 
 province, and he vowed inwardly that he would not 
 begin at this late date. So he merely remarked : — 
 
 " Mr. Maglundy, the lady you mentioned is an 
 admirable little woman — one in a thousand. I have 
 known her for years. I know also that her income 
 will suffice for her 8up[)ort for the rest of her life. 
 But that suggestion of yours appeals to me. Your 
 position in life is not an enviable one. As you say, 
 you have a home, but you have not the comforts of 
 home life. You will need a stay in your declining 
 years." 
 
 " Bless my soul!" thought Maglundy, in confusion, 
 "the Fawther has got hold of it." 
 
 "Of course," continued the pastor, "this is none 
 of my business; but I fancy your suggestion is worth 
 some thought." 
 
 "Bless your heart! — it is all thought out," an- 
 swwed the old man, bravely. " But who ever told 
 
 273 
 
Tbt Millionaire Sees ThingB 
 
 you my secret. Fawther?" he asked, trjing to smile. 
 Maglundy had blurted out his own secret. His 
 question was only a feint to throw his interlocutor 
 off the track. But he had at that moment to do with 
 a shrewder judge of men than himself. 
 
 "Noone.'-retortedthepastor. "lam only second- 
 mg a suggestion of yours, which I think is worthy 
 of some consideration. Meanwhile, think over it." 
 Father Sinclair felt that the millionaire had food 
 enough for reflection, and he took leave of the 
 mvalid, promising to return .soon. 
 
 Maglundy was in ecstasies. He was sitting in an 
 easy chair when the house-sui^eon on his rounds 
 found that his temperature was somewhat higher 
 and wanted to know what he had eaten. 
 
 "Only what the good Sisters gave me." answered 
 the patient, innocently. 
 
 The physician told the nurse in charge that he had 
 found the appendicitis case in Room H very much 
 worse and feverish. He had better Ue down and 
 keep his mind and body quiet. 
 The nurse came in with war in her eyes. 
 "You must go right back to bed, sir. I shall 
 have to apply more ice-bags." 
 
 "You wouldn't do that. Sister, to an old man like 
 me. would you ?" he asked appealingly. 
 
 Maglundy hated th« ice-bags, and the nurse had 
 to fly and hide her laughter. He went back to bed 
 
 «74 
 
From a New Standpoint 
 
 and kepi his body quiet; but he could not control 
 his thoughts so easily. He b^an to muse:— 
 
 "FawtherSindair must have got hold of this secret 
 somehow. I never mentioned it to any one. But 
 how am I, Silas Maglundy, ever going to propose 
 marriage to Miss Garvey?" How shall I go 
 
 about it ? . . . . Where shall I begin ?" 
 
 These and a hundred other questions puzzled the 
 brain of old Maglundy, who did not know how easy 
 the task was going to be. The toils had been set so 
 cunningly that he walked right into them. 
 
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CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove Gives the Chief a Few Emotions 
 
 TT was late that night when Father Sinclair 
 •■' reached the glebe-house; but he proceeded at 
 once to deliver Maglundy's message. Mrs. Me'- 
 grove answered the telephone herself. 
 
 " I have just come from the Providence, and Mr. 
 Maglundy would like to see Miss Garvey and your- 
 self some time to-morrow, if possible. The old 
 gentleman has good news to communicate." 
 
 "I fear Miss Garvey cannot come to-morrow. 
 She will be engaged in the Library all day. I am 
 going to take my husband out for a drive in the 
 afternoon, and we may call at the hospital." 
 
 " Better still," answered the pastor. " I shall be 
 over to Ashbume Avenue in a couple of days." 
 
 At three, the following day, Melgrove, who had 
 
 begun to walk around, went downstairs and out 
 
 into the fur-covered sleigh waiting for him at the 
 
 door. A brisk drive down the avenue and round 
 
 Rcvalview Terrace was a pleasant change for an 
 
 invalid who had been confined to his room for several 
 
 weeks. It had been one of Melgrove's favorite 
 
 walks when he was in health. The air was clear 
 
 277 
 
Mrs. Mclgrovc Gives the Chief 
 
 and soft, and the Terrace was crowded with tobog- 
 gans and their blanket-covered owners, gliding down 
 the icy sides like the wind. 
 
 A turn up Pinewood Avenue brought the sleigh 
 to the visitors' entrance of the Providence, where 
 Melgrove was helped out by his wife and the coach- 
 man. They climbed the steps slowly, and ./ere soon 
 m the elevator leading to the private ward. 
 
 Maglfandy was in bed. His temperature was a 
 little up, and he had just been sponged. His eyes 
 opened wide when he saw the Sister, with the 
 Melgroves, entering the room. 
 
 "My turn to come to see you, Mr. Maglundy, is 
 it not?" said Melgrove, cheerily, as he went over to 
 take the hand that had been held out to greet him. 
 
 " How very kind of you ! The Sisters have threat- 
 ened me with more ice-bags if I stir. I cannot ^et 
 out to welcome you; so please sit down and make 
 yourselves at home." 
 
 "What a lovely bouquet!" exclaimed Mrs. Mel- 
 grove, going over to the little table. 
 
 The card was lying beside the vase, and the visitor 
 
 could not help reading the name on it. It nearly 
 
 took her breath away; but she kept her own counsel. 
 
 "Yes, that dear giri has been sending them every 
 
 day. Wasn't it kind of her?" 
 
 "It was indeed, really kind," answered the visitor. 
 
 "Mr.Melgrove,"began the patient,«I regret that I 
 
 878 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 was not at the meeting held at your residence a week 
 ago. But I trust I may still be useful. Father 
 Sinclair told me that you had raised fifty thousand 
 dollars and that you needed twenty-five thousand 
 more to cany out your plans. I will give you that 
 amount whenever you want it. The stoc) that I 
 own may be turned into cash at any time. Your 
 Committee has simply to make the demand; and I 
 trust that the Library will prosper. That book you 
 see there on the table has done me a world of good." 
 
 Mrs. Melgrove, with the resistless but delicate 
 curiosity peculiar to her sex, raised the cover, and 
 saw the chief librarian's name on the fly-leaf. She 
 was thunderstruck. 
 
 "I have changed my ways of thinking on many 
 things since I came back from the jaws of death," 
 continued the old man, seriously. "Isn't this world 
 a poor aflFair after aU? And how quickly we may 
 leave it. You could tell as something about that, 
 could you not, Melgrove?" 
 
 "Yes, I had a rather close call myself. But that 
 
 j1 over now. Has the physician told you when 
 you may leave the hospital?" 
 
 "I think I shall be here for some time yet. But 
 if you will write out a cheque on Slegman & Co., I 
 can sign it here." 
 
 "I will do that, Mr Maglundy, and in the name 
 of our Committee I thank you for your generosity. 
 
 279 
 
Mrs. Melgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 We intended to make only a short call. 1 know it 
 fatigues you to entertain visitore. So Mrs. Melgrove 
 and I will say good day and speedy recoveiy." 
 "Thank you! thank you!" said the old man. 
 The visitors walked down the corridor to the 
 elevator, and the patient tried to get the ice-bags 
 into position before the nurse came. 
 
 "Wlio sent Maglundy those flowers every day.» 
 and that book?— what was the name on the fly- 
 leaf?" asked Melgrove, as they flew through the 
 streets and around the Terrace again. 
 
 "I will not give you one word of information," 
 was the quick response. "Do you want to be as 
 wise as your wife, dear ? " 
 
 With feminine instinct, she had been for some 
 time suspecting Miss Marj- Garvey's Uttle scheming. 
 Words dropped now and then in conversation with 
 the chief, and the pie- cf the emotions on her face— 
 which in Miss Garvey's case was truly the mirror of 
 the soul— had revealed to her, in recent weeks, more 
 than Mrs. Melgrove cared to say. She knew that if 
 her husband ever got wind of it, Mary Garvey 
 would have to submit to no end of teasing. Besides, 
 the more she thought the matter over, the better a 
 match of that kind pleased her. Her dearest friend, 
 Maiy Garvey, would make an ideal chatelaine for 
 thegreat empty mansion on Howai-th and Buell Streets. 
 And all tL?s time the shrewd little lady was not 
 
 «80 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 aware that at least two — Mrs. Melgrove and her 
 pastor — had seen through her scheming. 
 
 Melgrove drove down through Laurenboro to the 
 insurance offices, where he was greeted with a hearty 
 welcome by his assistants. He wrote out the cb< tque 
 for twenty-five thousand dollars, made it payable to 
 Father Sinclair, placed it in an envelope, and then 
 told the driver to pass by the glebe-house. The 
 pastor came out to the sleigh and received the 
 envelope from Melgrove's own hand. The next step, 
 he was told, was to secure Maglundy's signature, 
 and the deal would be complete. 
 
 " Things are going on satisfactorily, are t^''y not ?" 
 asked Father Sinclair. "I suppose you have not 
 time to come over to the Library? Miss Garvey 
 and the Revising Committee are in there, hard at 
 work on some new books." 
 
 The Melgroves walked over with the pastor to 
 the Library and there found the artist Wehrbach 
 gesticulating and telling the chief that she had a 
 fortune within her grasp. 
 
 "Wehrbach has found a treasure," sai.3 Miss 
 Garvey, who came to welcome the unexpected vbi- 
 tors, " and he is telling us all about it." 
 
 It was Wehrbach's turn now. 
 
 "Mein lieben, ein tresure! Vhy dis fraulein*' — 
 
 he thought Miss Garvey owned the Library, parish 
 
 and all — ^"hass ein vortune. Gorrege! Gorrege! 
 
 S81 
 
Mrs. WWgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 Loog ad dot name! Loog ad dot rock! Zee dot 
 name on id! Glaubel wiU her dhirty dhousand 
 thalera gd for dot bainting. undt berhaps vifty dhou- 
 
 Father Sinclair bent down and read, in plain 
 letters Correggio fecit." There ^as little doubt 
 about the genuineness of the work. The thorough 
 cleaning Wehrbach had given the canvas had brou/ht 
 out theonginal tones; and there, in all its freshness. 
 Its palpitating life and joyousness. its rhythmic 
 hnes Its melting and graceful contours, its color and 
 Its glowmg atmosphere, stood before them a work 
 direct from the brush of the immortal Faun of the 
 Renaissance. 
 
 Wehrbach had almost succeeded in «. nmuni- 
 eating his enthusiasm to those present. 
 
 "We must tell Burton about this." said Father 
 Sinclair. " It wiU be a nine days' wonder in the city 
 He can get a half-tone engraving and give CorregJo 
 a puff m his paper." 
 
 "What an advertisement for the Library'" ex- 
 claimed Melgrove, laughing. "Miss Garvey. your 
 Correggio is going to throw my Professor Flume 
 into the shade completely." 
 
 "Looks like it," answered the pastor. "Still we 
 must not jump too quickly at conclusions. Wehr- 
 bach may be mistaken." 
 
 The artist heard the remark. 
 
 S82 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 "Mishdaken! Iv I dot bainting zell vor dhirty 
 dhousand thalers, will you gif me a gommission?" 
 
 "How much do you ask?" 
 
 "Den berzent." 
 
 "Shall we?" Father Sinclair turned to Miss 
 Garvey. 
 
 " Certainly, Father; we need the money." 
 
 "Very well then, Mr. Wehrbach; get all you can 
 for the painting. Your commission is ten per cent." 
 
 "I vill go to New York domorrow to Herr 
 Glaubel zee." And the artist fairly danced himself 
 out of the hall, he was so happy at the prospect. 
 
 While Melgrove and the pastor were talking, the 
 chief invited the other visitor over to the alcove where 
 the Revisers were at work. But it was only the visit 
 of an instant. When she was leaving the Hall, Mrs. 
 Melgrove whispered into Miss Garvey 's ear: — 
 
 "Say nothing for the moment, Mary, but Silas 
 Maglundy has just added twenty-five thousand 
 dollars to the Library Fund." 
 
 "Library Fund!" exclaimed Lhe chief, with the 
 greatest surprise — the secret had not yet been told 
 her— "What h'brary fund?" 
 
 But her visitor said no more to enlighten her as 
 to the turn things had taken. She merely added : 
 
 "'The True Ministry of Wealth: did its work 
 nobly." 
 
 The chief blushed not knowing what to say. 
 
 w\ 
 
 r- ■ 
 
 i 
 
 : 1 
 
 ;} 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 J 
 
 '•', 
 
 ii 
 
 ■A 
 
Mrs. Melgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 "Aiul those exquisite bleeding-hearts; and the 
 roses," continued her gentle tormentor. 
 
 Miss Garvey was dumbfounded. 
 
 "Come over to Ashbume Avenue to-morrow at 
 two, and I wih tell you all." 
 
 While the Melgroves and the pastor walked out 
 to the sleigh, the chief returned to her desk. But 
 under thr plea of indisposition she shortly after left 
 th^ hail and went home, utterly unnerved. 
 
 It was a long, sleepless night for the enei^tic little 
 lady. She lay awake and pandered. Twenty-five 
 thousand dollars added to a library fund ? Has a 
 fund been already started ? What sums have been 
 given? Who were the donors? Something impor- 
 tai t is going on. She was aglow with expectancy. 
 On the other hand, how did Mrs. Melgrove L i 
 about the book and the flowers ? Had Maglundy's 
 tongue wagged too freely ? Where did she get hold 
 of the news? How many knew it? Did Father 
 Sinclair? Did any of the assistants? No wonder 
 she lay awake for hours pondering over the words 
 her best friend had whispered into her ears. It was 
 alLiost daylight before her tired brain found rest 
 in sleep. 
 
 A stormy morning was the prelude of her visit 
 to the Melgroves'. The thaw of the preceding day 
 had been followed by a sudden fall of the mercuiy. 
 The dripping water had hardened on the tree-trunks 
 
 284 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 and branches, and the park and avenues were 
 olothed in purest crystal. When the sun's rays began 
 to pierce the air and shed their light on the glassy 
 twigs and branches, Laurenboro was transformed 
 inlo a fairyland of matchless splendor. The faintest 
 breath of wind moved the countless tiny icicles 
 which hung from the trees along Ashbume Avenue 
 and made them sparkle with an incomparable radi- 
 ance. Now and then, a heavily-iaden branch 
 bending under its glittering burden, finally gave 
 way, and, crashing through the lower limbs, reached 
 the ground amid a ^>erfect shower of scintillating 
 orystab. One such came within a; ace of falling on 
 Miss Garve/ near the Melgrove mansion. It gave 
 her quite a start, and she rushed nervously up the 
 steps, feeling very thankful for having escaped an 
 accident which sometimes happens to less fortunate 
 pedestrians in Laurenboro. 
 
 The Ijsless had a warm welcome for her friend 
 and co-worker, warmer than usual, perhaps, for the 
 interview that afternoon was destined to be mem- 
 orable. Besides, Mrs. Mulgrove was prepared to 
 make ar^ends for the surprise she had caused the 
 chief librarian, and for the agitated state of mind 
 she had left he? in, the preceding afternoon. 
 
 The hearth was glowing in the Uttle parlor when 
 
 the two ladies entered i*. On the soft Polar mat 
 
 before the fire, a fluffy Poineranian was trying, in a 
 
 285 
 
 :] liil 
 
 ;! kf 
 
 t 
 
Mrs* Melgrove Givei the Qiief 
 
 playful way, to swallow Tiger, the kitten, one of 
 little Helen's former pets. This room was a cosy 
 comer in a retired part of the large house, which 
 only very dear friends of the Melgroves were privi- 
 leged to enter. While the hostess helped Miss 
 Garvey to doflf her furs, the maid adjusted the 
 samovar and set the cups and saucers where they 
 would be close at hand. 
 
 " I have so many things to tell you to-day that I 
 hardly know where to begin," said Mrs. Melgrove 
 smiling, as she threw the curtain aside and placed 
 her visitor's chair in a position where the soft rays 
 from the southern window would light up her 
 features. 
 
 " I did not sleep a wink, last night," returned the 
 visitor. "It was very cruel of you to keep me in 
 suspense so long! What libr y fund did you 
 refer to yesterday ? Plea* tell me at once." 
 
 "I will, my dear, at once," said Mrs. Melgrove, 
 seating herself beside Miss Garvey, T^ith her needles 
 and thread in her lap. " It has been reserved for me 
 to give you a pleasant surprise. Five gentlemen of 
 Laurenboro have contnbuted fifty thousand dollars 
 to found the Free Library; and your friend Mr. 
 Maglundy has completed the seventy-five thousand. 
 There is the news in a nutshell." 
 
 Miss Grarvey looked at the speaker in amazement 
 that, however, did not conceal her delight. 
 
 286 
 
A Few Emotionc 
 
 "And who are the gentlem n livHidw my frittidr" 
 she asked, emphasizing the la»t two words. 
 
 "The Graymers and the Molvoys gave ten thou- 
 sand each; the Cayson^ twenty thousand; my hus- 
 band, five; with Helen's insurance of five thousand 
 
 more." 
 
 "This is ' -fectly delightful news," exclaimed the 
 little chief. 'Are you really serious?" 
 
 "Serious? Burton was at the meeting here. He 
 must have mentioned it in the Tme». Father Sin- 
 clair knows all about it." 
 "He never so much as hinted the matter to me. 
 "Perhaps, you did not see him since." 
 " A dozen times at least." 
 
 "Which means that he left to me the pleasurable 
 task of informing you." 
 
 " Really, it is just as well you did n teU me last 
 night. I should not have slept anj-way." 
 
 Miss Garvey displayed by her joyful animation 
 the rousing effect of the good news. So many 
 thoughts crowded through her brain that she scarcely 
 knew how to express her feelings. The possibilities 
 of the work to which she was consecrating her time 
 began suddenly to loom up before her vision. She 
 already saw a large edifice, with hundreds of shelves 
 stocked with books, and a dozen of librarians running 
 from shelf to shelf to supply the wants of the readere 
 who flocked in in ever-incr xsing numbers. Her 
 
 287 
 
 ' i 
 

 i 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs* Melgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 little frame thrilled with emotion when she realized 
 that these dreams of hers were on the point of being 
 realized; and she repeated that she was positively 
 charmed at the prospect. 
 
 "But I have other news for you," said Mrs. Mel- 
 grove, who rose from her chair and began to fill the 
 tiny tea cups. 
 
 "And what is it, pray? Do tell me quick?" 
 exclaimed the impatient little visitor. 
 
 "Only a trifle. Some one is tampering with the 
 heart of Mr. Maglundy, the millionaire, that's all. 
 Excuse me, I must speak to the maid." 
 
 The hostess left the room. She had a purpose in 
 doing so. She desired to give her visitor a chance 
 to prepare what she was going to answer. Mrs. 
 Melgrove wished only to be useful to Mary Garvey. 
 But her tact moved her, at the same time, to save 
 that lady's feelings in the present interview, and to 
 throw all the blame on Maglundy, if his heart was 
 softening. 
 
 The little visitor knew that there was no way to 
 avoid the coming ordeal. The passing mention of 
 the book and the flowers, which Mrs. Melgrove had 
 made the day before in the Library Hall, told her 
 that something was out, and that there was no use try- 
 ing to parry with so shrewd a woman as her hostess. 
 The latter did not give her time to say a word 
 
 when she re-entered the room, but kept right on : 
 
 288 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 "We called on the old gentleman at the Provi- 
 dence yesterday, and I could detect by his words 
 that my little friend here had made an impression 
 on him; had, in fact, secured a warm comer in his 
 heart. You do not realize what a conquest those 
 flowers made. They have been as a ray of sunshine 
 to Silas Maglundy; and I almost think he is glad 
 he feU iU." 
 
 " The dreadful old idiot !" exclaimed Miss Garvey, 
 with apparent indifference. "What did he say? 
 Cannot a person send flowers to a friend of the 
 Library, now a patient in a hospital, without trying 
 to make a conquest ? He must be hopelessly insane." 
 
 Miss Garvey was parrying after all. Had Ma- 
 glundy blurted out something or other in presence 
 of the Melgroves ? She felt reUeved, however, that 
 the burden had been transferred to his shoulders; 
 though she knew in her heart of hearts that she 
 herself was at the bottom of it all. 
 
 "He is not hopelessly insane, by any means," 
 retorted Mrs. Melgrove. "He is quite responsible 
 for his words and actions. I confess I was surprised 
 when the truth dawned upon me; but I am exceed- 
 ingly well pleased." 
 
 "What do you mean, Mrs. Melgrove? Do you 
 want me to marry old Maglundy?" asked the Uttle 
 lady, looking vexed. 
 
 "Not necessarily. I could ask you to reflect over 
 
 889 
 
 ' I 
 
Mrs. Mclgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 It. You might do a worse thing. The old man is 
 kind, large-hearted, and affectionate. Any limita- 
 tions he possesses would soon disappear under your 
 skilful, wifely training. He is alone in the great 
 mansion at Howarth and Buell Streets. Think of 
 what your position would be in that splendid home. 
 Think of the amount of good you could do with the 
 old man's millions. Think of Mr. Maglundy's 
 soul, on which your influence would have lasthig 
 effects." ^ 
 
 The cause was pleaded so skilfully, and the argu- 
 ments had such weight with the Httle visitor, that 
 she sat silent, with her eyes filled with teara— in a 
 woman the most potent sign of vanquishment. 
 
 Miss Garvey promised to think over the matter. 
 She should have said that she would give it further 
 thought; for she had been thinking over it for many 
 a day. As far as she was concerned, her mind was 
 fully made up. Her only preoccupation now was 
 the embarrassment she should experience when Ma- 
 glundy came for his books. 
 
 "Does any one suspect Mr. Maglundy's inten- 
 tions?" she asked, with an anxious look. 
 
 "Not one has spoken to me," replied Mrs. Mel- 
 grove. 
 
 "Does Mr. Melgrove or Father Sinclair know 
 anything about it?" 
 
 " I do not think so. I know my husband does not." 
 
 290 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 There was a sigh of reHef , the first that had escaped 
 her in that eventful hour. The chief was wise enough 
 to know that nothing keeps so poorly as a secret; 
 and she decided there and then to send no more 
 flowers to the Providence, and to let events take their 
 course. 
 
 Little Helen's death and Mrs. Melgrove's com- 
 paratively lonely life without her, naturally formed 
 one of the afternoon's topics; but the noble mother 
 asserted more than once that sue should not wish to 
 see her child back again. The worries and cares 
 of life were over for Helen. The close friendship of 
 even such sterling friends as Miss Garvey, and i 
 very few others, could hardly fill the void in her 
 heart caused by the loss of her little daughter; but 
 she was quite resigned to wait and see her in heaven. 
 It was decided, however, that the chief Ubrarian 
 should make her visits more frequent. So many 
 new phases had devcloj)cd recently in their common 
 work that the need of mutual help and counsel was 
 more than ever felt. 
 
 That same afternoon the chief called to see Father 
 Sinclair at the glebe-house. She had a despatch 
 from Wehrbach ; and, besides, the news of the founda- 
 tion of the Laurenboro Free Library was uppermost 
 in her mind. She desired to know how the new order 
 of things would affect her standing, and whether she 
 should speak about it to the assistants. 
 
 291 
 
 ^1 
 
 • ij 
 
 •; » 
 
R 
 
 Mrs* IVklgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 "Who gave you all the news?" asked the pastor. 
 
 "Mrs. Melgrove, this very afternoon; and. Father 
 Sinclair, you knew all about it, and you never told 
 me a word." The Uttle lady had a way of her own 
 of looking vexed. 
 
 "The news is common property, Miss Garvey. 
 The Times mentioned the gift last week. Was that 
 all Mh. Melgrove told you.'" 
 
 The pastor did not really mean to insinuate any- 
 thing. He could not possibly have had an inkling 
 oi Mrs. Melgrove's confidence to the chief. He did 
 not even know that she had had wind of the book 
 and bouquet episode; but he struck the nail so 
 straight that the little lady grew nervous. 
 
 What he meant was a scheme that he himself had 
 suggested to the Melgroves on the occasion of his 
 last visit to their house. He had proposed that the 
 five thousand dollar insurance policy should be 
 applied to the purchase of books for the Children's 
 Department, and that the comer should be called 
 the "Helen Melgrove Section," in memory of their 
 little daughter. The Melgroves had asked time to 
 think over this delicate suggestion of their pastor, 
 and had not yet given their last word. 
 
 " That was all the news of the Library she gave 
 me," answered Miss Garvey, demurely. "But it 
 was excellent news. May I give all the details to 
 the assistants?" 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 "Why not? Tell them that their field of useful- 
 ness will soon be enlarged. Do you think that your 
 time will permit you to assume the direction of the 
 Library when it goes to its new quarters ?" 
 
 "Certainly, Father. But where are the new 
 quarters going to be?" she asked, excitedly; for this 
 was a detail that Mrs. Melgrove had not mentioned. 
 
 " That has not been decided yet. But somewhere 
 in the neighborhood of Howarth and Buell Streets 
 has been suggested. Our friend Mr. Maglundy will 
 not have far to come for books, if that scheme can 
 be arranged, " said Father Sinclair. "Tho dear old 
 man had quite a shock last week. He told me that 
 he is a frequenter of the Library; and that he has 
 many a good friend there. He appreciates the treat- 
 ment he has been receiving. That is one of the 
 reasons why he has been so generous to the work. 
 He is an excellent old man. I am sorry he has to 
 lead such an isolated life in that big house of his. " 
 
 That was all Father Sinclair said ; but it gave Miss 
 (iarvey food for thought, and made her blush deeply. 
 But blushes have no tongue to tell the why or where- 
 fore of their sudden coming; they are simply signs 
 in crimson that, like shorthand, need the context 
 for their interpretation. The little lady discerned a 
 world of meaning in her pastor's words. Had he 
 also seized the context? Were he and Mrs. Mel- 
 grove conspiring for a match between Maglundy and 
 
 203 
 
Mrs. Melgrove Gives the Chief 
 
 herself? And yet she had her friend's word for it 
 that, so far as she was aware. Father Sinclair knew 
 nothing about the matter. 
 
 She was puzzled and weary, and when she reached 
 home that evening, it was to ask herself whether she 
 had done anything unseemly in being kind to pn old 
 man on his bed of pain, or in showing him her sym- 
 pathy after a manner that obtains in social life. 
 
 In her flurry she forgot to show the pastor the 
 despatch she had from Wehrbach, who informed her 
 that Herr Glaubel was convinced of the genuineness 
 of the Correggio, and had offered him twenty-five 
 thousand dollars for it; but Weiirbach was holding 
 out for thirty. 
 
 "Let Wehrbach get all he can," she mused; and 
 she answered his despatch in that strain. 
 
 " Twenty-five thousand dollars will add many new 
 books to the Library, " she contmued. " What a day 
 of surprises this has been to me. One hundred 
 thousand dollars for a Ubraiy that did not exist four 
 mon.hs ago; and the possibilif of a milUonaiic 
 proposing marriage one of these days. History can- 
 not be repeating itself in my case. Such a thing 
 never happened before. This surely must be a 
 romance. " 
 
 The little lady admitted later that the prospects 
 made her smile. But she might have added that 
 these were the results of her own tact and 
 
 «M 
 
 good 
 
A Few Emotions 
 
 management. She had made the Free Librar>' 
 popular, and thereby demonstrated that it was badly 
 needed. After such a brilliant four months' lal)or 
 did she not deserve the hand and heart of even a 
 millionaire ? 
 
 rj 
 
 «95 
 
I 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 Silas Maglundy Earns the Gratitude of Uurenboro 
 
 THE Committee had set to work in earnest and 
 had been busily engaged for a week hunting 
 up a suitable site for the new Librar)-. All the avail- 
 able points in the city were examined; but in the end 
 they had to revert to Father SinclairV suggestion 
 that some place in the neighborhood of Howarth 
 Street should be secured. Howarth and Milton, 
 Howarth and Livingston, Howarth and Buell, were 
 ideal spots for a public library. But they Iwrdered 
 on the residential portion of the city, and the pnces 
 asked were far 1 '.gher than the Committee felt m- 
 dined to pay. After a week's investigation, no 
 decision had been arrived at. 
 
 The only proprietor v.'ho had not been seen was 
 Silas Maglundy. His residence had been visitc<l 
 from top to bottom by the Committee; and while 
 large sums of money would be required to transform 
 the interior into a library, the site and its surround- 
 ings would justify the outlay. The vacant ground 
 could be used later for purposes of extension, if 
 occasion called for it. 
 
 The old man, though convalescct, was still at the 
 
 207 
 
 I 
 
 kal 
 
Silas Maglundy Earns 
 
 Proviflenco, and it was decided that three of the 
 ( 'Onunittce — C^ayHon, Molvey, and Melgrove— should 
 wait on him that afternoon, lay their plans l>efore iiini 
 in a business way. and ask at what price he wouUl 
 sell his house. 
 
 Maglundy was notified by telephone of the intenditi 
 visit, and of the natiKv of the business. He waj- 
 c-onsequently not taken by surprise when the thnn* 
 ^fntlemen were ushered into Room H. Melgrove 
 was the only one of the three wlu)m he had met. 
 Molv«y and Cayson were introduced, and as the 
 doctor in chaise had asked that the visit be as short 
 as possible, so as not to tire the patient, Melgrove 
 informed him of their effort to secure a site, and of 
 the choice they had made of his residence, if it could 
 be had at a reasonable figure. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the invalid, after Melgrove 
 had ceased to speak, " I have been over this world a 
 good deal, and I am not so much attached to any 
 spot that I cannot part with it. We must leave all 
 some day. Where a man lives matters little. Since 
 I received your message this morning, I have done 
 a great deal of thinking, and here is what I have 
 <lecided. If you want my residence, you may have 
 it. As to the price, it shall cost Father Sinclair 
 nothing. I will make a gift of it to him ju.st as sewn 
 as I leave this hospital. The only reservation I 
 would make is that I be allowed to retain temporary 
 
The Gratituclc of Lauifnboro 
 
 jKwsessinn of a few rooms till I can arrange my 
 utfairs. I am an old "lun, and I nwd the attentions 
 of a helpmate. 1 may enter into marriage before 
 long. I shall tiien move to a smaller residence. 
 
 "Meanwhile," he added, "you may consider this 
 deal as settled, and continue to work in the interests 
 of the library. I am only too glad that I can at last 
 do something worth while for my fellow-citizens. 
 My fountain on Blenheim Square was not well n-- 
 ceived; I understand the reason now. T dcpende<l 
 ♦go much on my own judgment. But one grows 
 wiser as one grows older. I^st week, on the sui^jeon's 
 table, I learned the nothingness of earthly pos-s. ssions. 
 After Maglundy's generous promise, the visit was 
 not long prolonged beyond measure. The Com- 
 mittee were so utterly surprised that they had nothing 
 to say. Melgrove alone, being spokesman, thanked 
 the old man for his splendid gift. He would ap- 
 prise Father Sinclair that very night; and in the 
 name of the Board of Management he promised 
 that a suitable acknowledgment should be made in 
 the form of a slab or pillar. 
 
 "Slabs! Pillars! Monuments! What do they 
 amount to?" exclaimed Maglundy, rising in his bed 
 and looking intently at his visitors. " It is my soul 
 that I want to profit ])y these gifts. No moi-c slabs 
 for me; that is all pride— all rank nonsense, gentle- 
 men. When I think of that cow in Blenheim Square, 
 
Siiai Maglundy Earns 
 
 ! 
 
 I nearly (lie of »hamc. What u fool I was! Would 
 you ask ¥av, ''ler Sinclair to call and hw me ?" 
 
 The comn. ee left the room imprcMsed and edified 
 with the change that had taken place in Maglundy, 
 and rejoicing at the gift whereby they saved at least 
 fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 It nearly took the pastor's breath away when Mel- 
 grove gave him the news. He h; stened to the Provi- 
 dence to thank Maglundy. The old man was sitting 
 in an easy chair when the pastor entered. He held 
 out his hand and reasserted all that he had told the 
 Committee. 
 
 " But there is that other matter I wish to straighten 
 out before I quit the Prcvidence, Fawther, and I 
 should like to ask your help and counsel. Let me 
 give the details." 
 
 It was no longer a suggestion to improve the design 
 for a public fountain, nor was it an inscription in a 
 dead language, nor yet a speech to be written for him. 
 Grace had done its work. 
 
 "Fawther, ten years ago, I entered into partner- 
 ship with a young miner in California. We agree<i 
 to locate quartz and placer claims and divide tne 
 pn>fits. This plan worked well for two years; we 
 acquired valuable properly, \tthe end of that time, 
 I discovered that my partner was a vile adventurer, 
 who, instead of earning an honest living as a miner, 
 preferred to live by his v its. H« had been an actor 
 
 300 
 
on 
 
 The Gratittide of Laorentboro 
 
 • stage for yean, and used his knowledge lo 
 fleece everyone he met. One day 1 bought out hw 
 interests in our claims, at his own price; he disai)- 
 peared, and never sinct have 1 heard of him. Shortly 
 after, I struck the rich quartz vein on the«e .. ims 
 which was the foundation of my fortune. The 
 miners of San Jacinto thought that I had had a 
 previous knowledge of the vein; that I had laken 
 unfair advantage of a brother miner, and they were 
 going to proceed to violence to recover the interests 
 of my late partner. But the law upheld me. and I 
 felt that I should take no further notice of the trans- 
 action. However, my conaciencc is hot at rest. I 
 should be well pleased to do some favor to my old 
 partner, if he could be found. I would make him 
 independent for the rest of his days." 
 
 This revelation put a different aspect on the San 
 Jacinto incident, as related by Fa«l r Golworth, 
 who undoubtedly had only the popular version of 
 
 ♦he deal. 
 
 "What can I do in the matter?" asked tatlur 
 
 Sinclair. 
 
 "Write to the postmaster of San Jacinto, who 
 knows all the miners in the district, and inquire for a 
 well-known character— Crookwood by name." 
 
 "Crm»kwood!" exclaimed the pastor. 
 
 "That was the man's name. I never knew him 
 
 hv anv other." 
 
 301 
 
')/ 
 
 Silas Magltmdy Earns 
 
 "A tall, thin man, with blue eyes, and a heavy 
 gash across his forehead ?" 
 
 "That is the man," said the invalid, almost ris- 
 ing from his chair. "Why, Fawther, do you know 
 him ?" 
 
 "Crookwood was in Laurenboro ten days ago. 
 He called at the glebe-house and kept me in the parlor 
 for over an hour. " 
 
 The pastor then related the experience with Nan- 
 ny's tramp. Maglundy's surprise was extreme. 
 
 " He is an impostor of the worst kind," (!ontinued 
 Father Sinclair. "He succeeded in getting two 
 hundred dollars from the employees of the Great 
 Western; he got I do not know how much from the 
 Hay den Street Tabernacle people; he got ten dollars 
 out of me." 
 
 "These are his old tricks, Fawther. Crookwood 
 is a genius. Did he faint? Did he tell you the 
 pathetic story of his ruin in mining in California .''" 
 
 " He did not mention mining at all. His present 
 specialty is wife-killing. He fainted splendidly. He 
 did not speak of California; he knows New York, 
 apparently," answered the pastor. 
 
 "The man told me often that he was bom in New 
 
 Yi)rk, and then drifted westward. He may have 
 
 returned East after T parted with him. But what 
 
 should I (l(j .'" 
 
 "Mr. Maglundy, you owe Crookwood nothing. 
 
 302 
 
The Gratittdc of Laarenboro 
 
 So let your conscience rest. I am sure he will never 
 
 trouble you. " 
 
 Tliis was a relief to the old man, who continued:— 
 "I have ordered the contractors to remove the 
 fountain from Blenheim Square. I shall ask you, 
 Fawther, to select a design in its place. 
 
 This was a more pleasant task than trying to im- 
 prove on the original one, and Father Sinclair 
 promised he would provide a design that should be 
 a credit both to Maglundy and Laurenboro. 
 
 The millionaire did not appear in the Library 
 Hall for several weeks after he left the Providence, 
 although he managed to get to Mass every morning. 
 The tremendous change that had taken place in him 
 was the topic of conversation among his friends for 
 many days, and was attributed to his illness. But 
 Father Sinclair, who saw things more clearly than 
 others, went one step further. The fear of death 
 has made stouter hearts than Maglundy's quail. It 
 is a terrific blow to one's pride and ambition to find 
 oneself looking over a chasm and to see the etfoiis 
 of a life-time on the verge of submersion. In Ma- 
 glundy's case, it was a great favor God had done him, 
 in opening his eyes. The old man recognized this; 
 he was trying to make amends for his past life. His 
 forty years of forgetfulness rose up continually like 
 a raounlain between himself and his Maker; and 
 Father SincUiir had several limes to encourage him 
 
 303 
 
Silas Maglundy Earns 
 
 
 lest he should fall into despair. All was not lost, he 
 
 was told. 
 
 How carve the way i' the life that lies before. 
 If bent on groaning for tlie past ? 
 
 He could try to make up for wasted time by greater 
 fervor and more assiduous care of his soul. 
 
 "I feel no '^^ that God did well to send me that ill- 
 ness," hejtold Father Sinclair, while the pastor was 
 accompanying him up Howarth Street. "During 
 the years I was in California, I did nothing but a 
 t|uire property for the sake of becoming a millionaire. 
 When I struck that rich lode, I saw that my goal was 
 reached. I thought I had captured the earth. And 
 now after it is all over, I find that if I wait long 
 enough I shall get only six feet of it, with a coifin 
 thrown in. " 
 
 Maglundy reasoned like a philosopher, but he hatl 
 become a child again in the hands of Father Sinclair, 
 and he asked him for lx)oks of piety to occupy his 
 leisure hours. The old man felt lonely in that grcal 
 house at Howurth and Bucll Streets. He considered 
 it no longer his, but the property of the Laurenboro 
 Library. He had reserved sevei-al rooms on the 
 second floor for his own use, and here he used to 
 pace up and down for hours at a time. 
 
 But these were his gloomy days. Occasionally 
 he would brightrn up, order his sleigh, and drive 
 down-town. The newn that he had donated bis 
 
 ir 
 
The Gratitude of Laurenboro 
 
 residence and twenty-five thousand dollars for library 
 purposes had roused the enthusiasm of all who had 
 the interests of the institution at heart. Burton had 
 written many compUmentar> things about him in the 
 Times, which everybody said were well deserved. 
 
 His first appearance in the Library Hall after his 
 convalescence was the signal for an ovation. Miss 
 Garvey was asked to read him an address, but she 
 declined; she felt indisposed. So Clare Cayson. 
 who had become her first and ablest assistant, read 
 it in her stead, and it pleased the old man very much. 
 Uncle SUas from that time forward became a general 
 favorite with all the Ubrarians. They no longer let 
 Miss Garvey monopoUze him when he came, as she 
 had done on former occasions. They crowded 
 around him and begged for stories of mining life in 
 far-off CaUfomia. Camp stories v-re aU that Silas 
 cared to tell. For the special pleasure of the Ubra- 
 rians he told them how he met Bret Harte at San 
 Jacinto; whereupon C are sidled away and brought 
 the happy old man a couple of that author's volumes 
 
 to read. 
 
 Maglundy had a tenacious memory, and he told a 
 story well. He became so interesting, and had so 
 many reminiscences to relate, that the assistants 
 waited on him in a body one day and asked him to 
 tell them the story of his life. The large alcove, 
 with its round table, was an ideal six)t for story-lell- 
 
 »U5 
 
The Gratitude of Latirenboro 
 
 ing, and they said they should be very much obliged 
 to him if he would come. 
 
 Of course, Maglundy promised. All this deferem-e 
 and attention, coming from the young ladies, tickled 
 the old roiner immensely, and he told Father Sinclair 
 later that he got more pleasure and more satisfaction 
 in life in listening to the innocent chattering of Miss 
 Ganey's librarians than he felt the day he heard 
 the cheers of the crowd surging around the cow cw 
 Blenheim Square. 
 
 Miss Garvey did not object to all this bu.sllc about 
 the millionaire. Since the others had taken (josscs- 
 sion of him, in his weekly visits, she kept quite aloof — 
 it became her in her dignity of chief. She was as 
 kind and as affable as ever; but the little lady did 
 not know just where she stood. She was shrewd 
 enough to know that a secret half out was no longer 
 safe; she had never been able to leam whether the 
 assistants knew anything about the flowers. The 
 truth is, she did not care to ask them. 
 
 "Secrets will ]K)p out," she mused to herself, one 
 day; "and shouldn't I have a time wilh these six 
 assistants, if mine ever did!" 
 
 906 
 
 «.r«* y 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 I 
 
 A Marriage— and All Ends Well 
 
 THE winter was passing away rapidly. Several 
 heavy thaws had begun to tell on the drifts 
 in the avenues. The huge piles of snow, relics of the 
 December blizzard, which Mayor Bruce did not see 
 fit to have removed to the Brono, and which accord- 
 ingly gave Laurenboro a special aspect — to attract 
 winter tourists, the Mayor said — were dwindling 
 sensibly under the rays of the March sun. Tiny 
 streams followed the car tracks down the hill to tJic 
 river front, while here and there, on the elevations 
 and the empty lots, could be seen tufts of last yeg,r's 
 growth — harbingers of green grass and May flowers. 
 
 Thus came the lovely spring with rush of blossoms and 
 
 music. 
 Filling the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies 
 
 vernal. 
 
 A new life was coursing through the veins of 
 
 Nature. Laurenboro was rising out of her sleep 
 
 after the piercing cold of the North had fled» apd 
 
 the long cheerless winter; cheerless, in very deed, 
 
 for the season just ending would long be remembered 
 
 as the year of the Gottingen t-risis. 
 
 307 
 
 «i 
 
A Marriage 
 
 li' ' 
 
 I .1 
 
 No one felt the invigorating influences of the new 
 life more than Silas Maglundy. Every afternoon 
 he was seen walking down Howarth Street, inhaling 
 the fresh spring air, and receiving the congratulation> 
 of his friends on his recovery from what he himself 
 thought was a " close call. " 
 
 The legal transfer of his property had been made 
 to Father Sinclair, pending the introduction of a bill 
 of incorporation; and the contractors had already 
 begun to transform the great mansion into a public 
 library. The old man followed the work of alter- 
 ation with the deepest interest. He watched every 
 detail of the work, and asked many questions. It 
 was he who reported progress weekly to the chief 
 and her assistants; he made their hearts glad by the 
 evident satisfaction at the part he was playing in the 
 whole enterprise. All this distraction and activity 
 had a beneficial effect on him. His physical well- 
 being influenced his spiritual; he was consequently 
 in the best of humor most of the time. 
 
 One day he met Burton. The editor of the Times 
 was interviewing the contractors when Maglundy 
 walked up and took his hand. 
 
 " Mr. Zditor, you were hard on me once, " he said, 
 softly. 
 
 "I was once, only once, I believe," answered 
 Burton, " but I will never be again. The work you 
 are doing here in Laurenboro makes one forget the 
 
 308 
 
And AU Ends WeU 
 
 past; it is going to give you an honored name amongst 
 us." 
 
 " Something more in it than there was in that c(»w 
 on Blenheim Square, isn't there ? But we are friends 
 are we not, Burton?" 
 
 The old man clasped his hand tightly. 
 
 Burton acquiesced readily. The Blenheim Square 
 episode, brought up so suddenly, gave the editor a 
 nervous twitch, and he decided to change the topic 
 as soon as he could. 
 
 " Mr. Maglundy," he ventured, " I intend to give 
 this new Library a good send-off when it is completed, 
 and sliall make amends for hurting your feelings 
 on a former occasion. Have you a photo of your- 
 self ? Many of my readets are anxious to see the 
 man whose name is on everybody's lips these days.'' 
 
 "I have no picture of myself, Mr. Burton. Any 
 one who wants to see Silas Maglundy may walk 
 along Howarth Street any afternoon that it doesn't 
 rain. Will not that meet the demand ?" he asked. 
 
 "Not at all," persisted Burton. "Thousands of 
 my readers live out of town, and they are deeply 
 interested in your career. A sketch of your life and 
 a half-tone will tell them all about you, and raise 
 you in public esteem." 
 
 But the editor had overshot his mark. Maglundy 
 
 was no longer the same man. 
 
 "All folly, Burton! All rank nonsense, sir! " he 
 
 300 
 
A Marriage 
 
 ■i 
 lit 
 
 retorted. "The esteem of my fellow-citizens I 
 appreciate, but I am not going to use artificial 
 methods to secure it. The nearness of death tauglit 
 me the vanity of many things. This is one of them. 
 Henceforth, I will not work for the esteem of men. 
 Anything I may do in the future shall be done to help 
 me to save my soul. If public esteem follows that 
 kind of work, let it come. But I will not run after 
 it." ' 
 
 This logic appealed to the clear head of the editor, 
 and he positively admired the speaker. The tre- 
 mendous change that had taken place in the heart 
 of the old millionaire made a deep impression on 
 Burton, and he could not help elling Father Sinclair 
 when he saw him soon after, that there were con- 
 versions besides those to the Faith. 
 
 "Certainly," replied the pastor, "and it is often 
 a harder task to convert a Catholic than to bring one 
 in from outside of the fold. In the present case, all 
 that the old man needed was a good shock. He 
 got it the day he was taken to the Providence. It 
 was a great favor God did to him ; his duty now is 
 to persevere." 
 
 "And die happily.'" added Burton, smiling. 
 
 "And die happily," echoed the pastor. 
 
 "Put isn't the old gaffer going to get married? 
 He told the Committee so .'' 
 
 The question was rather bluii but Father Sin- 
 
And AU Ends WeU 
 
 clair merely answered: "Things more improbable 
 than that have happened. " 
 
 "On my honor, if I could get the name of the 
 future bride," said Burton, enthusiastically, "I'd 
 give the old hero a column in the Times, with a 
 'scare head.' That marriage is perplexing me." 
 
 It was perplexing more than the editor. Father 
 Sinclair kept his own counsel; but even he did not 
 know how things were going to turn out. Maglundy 
 himself was in a quandary, not as to who the party 
 of the second part should be— that was settled long 
 ago— but as to how he should go about it, or where 
 the beginning of the end was to be. 
 
 One day, late in March, Miss Garvey was showing 
 him some rare books she had just received— the 
 chief was always in good humor every time a new 
 instalment came. She had just told Maglundy that 
 when the Library was transferred to his residence, 
 she should be able to secure whole editions of such 
 works. 
 
 "What a splendid site! I passeti the door again 
 yesterday. And what a world of good this Library 
 is going to do for years. Mr. Maglundy," she ex- 
 claimed enthusiastically, " my whole heart is in this 
 work." 
 
 The old man looked around ; they were quite alone. 
 
 " Your whole heart ? Isn't that too much to give, 
 
 Miss Garvey ? Could you not spare half— just half 
 
 311 
 
 1 
 
A Marriage 
 
 —for an old man whom the world calls a millionaire ? 
 Just half?" 
 
 The world did not hear the answer. The world 
 consequently will never know how it was done. 
 But three days later, all Laurenlwro read in the 
 Personal G)lumn of the Times: — 
 
 The marriage of Mr. Silas Maglundy. the California 
 millionaire, and Miss Mary Garvey, one of Laurenlwio's 
 popular y«iung ladies, is a function of the near future. 
 The date will be announced later. 
 
 That and nothing more. But it was enough. 
 Melgrove nearly gasped for breath when he took 
 up the paper that night, 
 
 " Foxy grandpa ! " he shouted. " You're a crack- 
 erjack. " 
 
 "Land's sake! Did you ever?" exclaimed Clare 
 Cayson, who nearly fainted. 
 
 " Bravo! bravo!" echoed the rest of Laurc.boro. 
 
 The engagement was a nine days' wonder in the 
 parish. Even Miss Garvey surmised it would be. 
 Perhaps that was the reason she kept out of sight 
 for a couple of weeks. 
 
 But everybody was pleased. The little lady found 
 that out after her engagement to Maglundy was an- 
 nounced. More than a hundred notes of congrat- 
 ulation came to her from friends and well-wishers. 
 
 The absence of the chief from her usual post did 
 
 not hinder the work in the library. Evervthinj? 
 
 312 ' ' ^ 
 
And M Ends WcQ 
 
 went on as usual. Magiundy did not miss a week. 
 Regularly, every Wednesday afternoon, he dropped 
 in with his volume under his arm. utterly oblivious 
 of the good-natured comments of the assistants and 
 the readers who chanced to be exchanging their 
 
 books. 
 
 Clare Cayson was always kind and pleasant to the 
 old gentleman and helped him, as Miss Garvey 
 would have done, in choosing his book for the week. 
 In fact, she went out of her way to oblige him, an<l 
 rummaged through half a section one day to find a 
 volume she desired him to read. 
 
 "How should you like to read K-39 : ' Fishim, 
 for MiUim»r " she asked him, meanwhile handing 
 the book over the counter. 
 
 "Thatwilldo. Astoryof ocean perils, I suppose ? 
 said he, wrapping it up carefully. 
 "No," replied Clare, "fishing on dry land." 
 "Indeed! Fishing on dry land! The work must 
 be interesting." He never suspected what Clare 
 was hinting at. "I shall read it with pleasure. 1 
 do not see the chief librarian here any more. Is 
 
 she unwell?" 
 
 "Only indisposed," answered Clare. "1 think 
 
 she is busy. " 
 
 "Indeed! busy." 
 
 "Yes; so she said. It must be her wedding 
 
 tfousRpau that is keeping her away." 
 
 r>i3 
 
 ratz ^HBP' ■ 
 
A Rarriase 
 
 *' How intercsllng !" 
 
 And the old man left the hall without giving her one 
 bit of news. 
 
 The main thing the assistants wished to know was 
 whether any date had been fixed for the wedding or 
 not. It was decided among them that a splendid 
 wedding gift should be presented to M'iS Garvey; 
 and they, like the rest of mortals on similar occasions, 
 were racking their brains to know wliat the gift should 
 
 be. < 
 
 Father Sinclair was appealed to. It was a solemn 
 moment when the six assistants, with Clare Cay- 
 son at their head, appeared at the glebe-house 
 parlor. 
 
 "Presents!" exclaimed the pastor. "Do you 
 think, ladies, that Mr. Maglundy is not able to fur- 
 nish his own home ? What would t«o old gentleman 
 say to this ? " 
 
 "But it is the custom. Father. Everybody does 
 it," broke in Clare Cayson. 
 
 "And does it follow. Miss Cayson, that because 
 everybody does it, the custom should be encouraged ? 
 I have had some experience, and I know that the 
 wedding-present mania here in Laurenboro has 
 become a nuisance. I am sure that if Miss Garvey 
 were consulted, she would unhesitatingly put her 
 foot down on it." 
 
 " But what arc wc to do to show her our apprecia- 
 
 314 
 
And AH Endi WeU 
 
 ,io„ ?" B«ked Clare, who wa* the «pokrsman for the 
 
 '^'l:it: me to suggest something." n.un.d the 
 pastor. " The name of Garvey is soon to be .hanged 
 r„To that of Maglundy. It would ». M«l^- tha J 
 well-known a name should be buned m ob hvion. 
 Why not call one of the section, in the new Ubrary 
 the 'Mary Garvey Section'?" 
 
 " Sp' --ndid." exclaimed all in unison. 
 " And fill it with Hction suitable for elderly milhon- 
 aires." added Clare Cayson. laughing. "^P^^; 
 that we girl8"-tumingto her co-workers- present 
 h: Ga^ey Section with „.oro<.o-bound copies of 
 The wJing of Silas- The Vn^Ul^nyBacheor 
 ^The True Ministry of Wealth; and 'Fishing for 
 
 ''^:Z^^ left the glebe-house in a h^h sta^e 
 of exultation. Nothing ccH have pleased them hal 
 o well as the noVel wedding pre^nt^ not b..ca..e .t 
 was a cheap and easy solution of what is very often 
 Hear problem, but rather because the httle ehie 
 had won her way into their hearts; and they would 
 have ..gretted to see her honored name fo'^otte" _ 
 
 Father Sinclair's suggestion was the result of the 
 favoi^ble reply he had received f^m the Melgroves 
 about a similar affair. When he suggested that 
 Helen's insurance money should be devoted to ^e 
 purchase of books for the young and that the chil- 
 
 h," 
 
 
A Marriage 
 
 I 
 
 dren's corner be called the " Helen Melgrove Section," 
 the family at first objected to the latter clause. They 
 were rather averse to that kind of fame. At last they 
 yielded, when the pastor told them that it seemed to 
 him a very appropriate way of perpetuating little 
 Helen's memory. There was to be a "Cayson 
 Section, " a " Molvey Section, " a "Graymer Section ; " 
 there was no reason why there should not be a " Mel- 
 grove Section. " Such being the case, Horace Mel- 
 grove waived his title to immortality in favor of his 
 little daughter. Greater glory was reserved in the 
 mind of the pastor for Silas Maglundy. He had 
 not yet decided what should be the nature of it; but 
 it was to be something worth while. 
 
 These delicate tasks took up Father Sinclair's 
 spare moments during the first half of the month of 
 May. His correspondence with publishers and with 
 the public libraries all over the country had grown 
 so enormous that he could no longer cope with it, 
 and he thought seriously of engaging some one to 
 carry it on for him. He broached the subject one 
 evening during a committee meeting. 
 
 " I hear that the Elzevir people are going to dis- 
 jiense with young Newell's services," said Molvey. 
 " He should be able to fill the posiMon. " 
 
 "What's up?" asked the pastor, a plan suddenly 
 dawning on him of working his way into the hearts 
 
 of the Newell family. 
 
 S16 
 
And AH Ends WeU 
 
 -Simpb' -uis." replied Molvey, "the Directors of 
 the El. -.ir tried lasi winter to hoodwink our p«>plo 
 by eng g-rs^ a Coth-ac secretary. They have from 
 the ver ' ,.«-inrmig '.een trying to alienate sympathy 
 from oir enterprise. But they find that we are too 
 strong for them. Their circulation has decreased 
 one-third since Miss Garvey started to work. AU 
 this has soured them against CathoUcs m genera ; 
 and as a result they have no further use for their 
 
 '''a'wm write to young Newell to-morrow." said 
 Father Sinclair. "His experience would be useful 
 to us. And, besides, I have other motives for ex- 
 tending a friendly hand to that family." 
 
 Meanwhile the reconstruction of the Maglundy 
 mansion wa3 proceeding rapidly. Space had already 
 been prepared for fifty thousand volumes, with room 
 for as many moi^. Large cases began to amv^> 
 from the publishei^. They were stored away await- 
 in. revision. Father Sinclair urged the workmen to 
 complete their labors before June. As an earnest of 
 Divine protection, he desired to formally open he 
 Library on the first day of the month consecrated 
 to the Sacred Heart. 
 
 Burton kept the public fully informed of the prog- 
 ress of the work, and thereby excited the indigna- 
 tion of several of the Elzevir Directors, who told 
 him it was a disgrax* to journalism in a free countr}' 
 
 317 
 
A Marriage 
 
 to advocate so strongly the principles of "Sectarian- 
 ism"; that Burton "ought to be ashamed of him- 
 self to become, in this enlightened age, the apostle 
 of medievalism." 
 
 But the editor only listened. It was only an- 
 other phase of the struggle that should ever he 
 waged between Truth and Error. 
 
 It was not until the third week in May that the 
 contractors* handed the key of the reconstructed 
 Maglundy mansion to Father Sinclair. The pastor 
 sent it with a note to the chief librarian, inviting 
 her to take possession of her new quartere. 
 
 The busy little lady was very much puzzled to 
 know what he meant. He could not mean her to 
 take possession as Miss Garvey; he should know 
 that she was busy; he certainly could not ask her 
 to go as Mrs. Maglundy, for the date when that title 
 would be her own had not yet been decided on. 
 Suddenly, the gist of the message dawned on her: 
 she had not called on her pastor since her engage- 
 ment was announced. 
 
 The next morning a very welcome hand wjas ex- 
 tended to her at the glebe-house, and God's bless- 
 ing called down on her kneeling form. It was? 
 arranged that the marriage should be solemnized 
 on the last day of May. 
 
 The rest of the tale is soon told. The wedding of 
 the chief librarian was a gala day in the parish. 
 
And AU Ends WcU 
 
 No event in recent years caused such widespread 
 satisfaction. Clare Cayson, and her assistants, 
 loyal to the end, had made St. Paul's as attractive 
 us they could. A long awning covered the passage 
 from the curbstone to the main entrance of the 
 eburch Vases of tiowers-roses and bleedmghearts 
 being omitted, however-stood on graceful pillars 
 at intervals along the aisle, while the kneeling benches 
 near the sanctuary rail were covered with nch tap- 
 
 estrv. 
 
 Long before the hour appointed for the ceremony 
 
 a crovv^ of curious persons-mostly of the gentler 
 sex-lined both sides of the street, all intcut on 
 netting at least a passing glance at the brxde and 
 y -tire. When Miss Garvey alighted from her 
 t . with the Melgroves and Clare Cayson, 
 
 th. sean-hing gaze of so many eyes staring at her 
 brought a perceptible color to her cheek. She 
 hastened up the steps and into the church where 
 the organ overhead was pouring out a flood ot 
 music in her honor 
 
 The millionaire was awaiting her at the altar- 
 rail, and the marriage ceremony began immedi- 
 ately To tlie momentous questions put by tatliei 
 Sinclair, the replies were given in tones that denoted 
 deadly earnestness in the parties interested, mvv 
 the nuptial mass, the millionaiiv 
 r the Great Western station 
 
 startec 
 
 left 
 
 319 
 
A Marriage 
 
 • 
 
 for a prolonged honeymoon in the Rockies. The 
 crowd of ladies lingered around the church door to 
 discuss the wedding and the prospects. But the 
 comments were of a very friendly nature. Every- 
 one congratulated the little lady on her good fortune; 
 and everyone congratulated Silas Maglundy on his 
 fortune equally good. 
 
 It was during the absence of the couple that the 
 opening of the splendid new Library Hall took 
 place. There was no great commotion made in th<? 
 flitting from the old home to the nc./. The books 
 which were no longer serviceable for circulation 
 were sent to the Seamen's Home. The new volumes 
 which were to replace them, and the other thousands 
 which were to be added, had already reached the 
 revising stage. They received their individual 
 numbers, and were then thrown into circulation. 
 It was a delicate suggestion of the pastor that 
 secured the "Mary Garvey Section" at a place right 
 opposite to the main entrance. The sign, in letters 
 plain and legible, met the eyes of readers as they 
 entered, and told them that the familiar name of 
 tlie former chief librarian would not soon die in 
 the memory of Laurenboro. In a short while the 
 wheelwork of the new and enlarged institution 
 turned just as smoothly as it did in the old. 
 
 Young Kenneth Newell made an efficient secretary. 
 
 So satisfactorily did he perform his duties that 
 
 320 
 
And An Ends Wcfl 
 
 Father Sinclair thought seriously of creating the 
 office of Library Superintendent for him. This fact, 
 among others, not merely reconciled the elder New- 
 ell to the new order of things, but even threatened, 
 from the trend events were taking, to provide Clare 
 Cayson with a husband. 
 
 When the last trace of snow disappet^red. Father 
 Sinclair carried out his promise to the millionaire, 
 and gave the designs for a classic statue of Neptune 
 to replace the cow, which had been sent to the junk- 
 hnop. At his own expense, a marble slab, with the 
 names of the founders, was placed in the vestibule 
 of the new library. 
 
 Something more conspicuous was reserved for 
 Silas Maglundy. At a secret meeting of the Com- 
 mittee, Horace Melgrove carried a resolution that a 
 sum of money be set aside to raise a bronze statue 
 to Maglundy after his demise, to perpetuate the 
 memory of one who deserved so well of Laurenboro. 
 The old gentleman is still hale and hearty, and 
 li^'ing happily in a modest home not three blocks 
 away from his former princely mansion. In the 
 evening of his life he may be seen sitting, with his 
 devoted helpmate, under the shadow of a noble 
 maple, listening to the cooing of the doves and the 
 warbling of the song-birds, satisfied with himself 
 and with the worid at large. May many years elapse 
 before a monument in bronze tells the story of his 
 
 321 
 
A Marriage 
 
 going ! His kind heart, rather than his strange career, 
 has made all the world his friend. But the question 
 is still asked by tliose not in the secret:— 
 
 "Who trained Silas? Was it Father Sinclair? 
 Or wasn't it Mary Garvey?" 
 
 PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK 
 
 382 
 
Standard Catholic Books 
 
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