was deeded absolutely in the name of the Bishop
of the diocese.

Only a narrow passage-way separated the church
from the pastorate, a fine new brick residence stand-
ing flush upon the street. Theron mounted the
steps, and looked about for a bell-pull. Search
revealed instead a little ivory button set in a ring
of metal work. He picked at this for a time with
his finger-nail, before he made out the injunction,
printed across it, to push. Of course! how stupid
of him! This was one of those electric bells he
had heard so much of, but which had not as yet
made their way to the class of homes he knew.
For custodians of a mediæval superstition and
fanaticism, the Catholic clergy seemed very much
up to date. This bell made him feel rather more
a countryman than ever.

The door was opened by a tall gaunt woman,
who stood in black relief against the radiance of
the hall-way while Theron, choosing his words
with some diffidence, asked if the Rev. Mr.
Forbes was in.

"He is," came the hush-voiced answer. "He's
at dinner, though."

It took the young minister a second or two to
bring into association in his mind this evening
hour and this midday meal. Then he began to
say that he would call again, -- it was nothing
special, -- but the woman suddenly cut him short
by throwing the door wide open.

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