t's very pretty. St. Marys owes a good deal to Mr.
Belding for this."

"He made the plans, I know, but think of all the people who gave the
labor and the things to build it with."

Belding was about to blurt out that it was Clark who gave the things to
build it with, but a swift signal imposed silence.

"I know, it's excellent. You have not been at the works lately."

"I was there last week."

"And I was in Philadelphia. I'm sorry."

She said good-by and, with Belding at her side, turned homeward, Clark
looked after them curiously, his eyes half closing as though to hide a
question that moved in their baffling depths.

The congregation dispersed slowly with the conviction that there had
been created one of those memories to which in later years the
reflective mind delights to return. Quite naturally, and as they often
did, Mrs. Manson and Mrs. Bowers dropped into the Dibbott house with
its mistress. Dibbott was already there. He was about to start on one
of his official journeys, and just now was rooting things out of a back
cupboard with explosive energy.

"Well," said Mrs. Bowers, folding her large, capable hands, "wasn't it
lovely?"

The rumble of a street car sounded outside. "It revives old times,"
Mrs. Manson said softly, "but I don't believe we've changed much.
We're too bred in the bone."

"Do we want the old times back?" asked Mrs. Bowers, to whom the past
years had been kind.

"For some things, yes, and for others, no. Living's a great deal more
expensive, and my husband's income is just the same," put in Mrs.
Dibbott after a pause. "Taxes are up, and I'm not any happier though I
suppose I'm better informed. John won't sell the place though he has
been offered a perfectly splendid price, and it's noisy--but I like it,
and there's the garden. Things don't happen to me--they just happen
round me."

"And you, my dear," continued Mrs. Bowers with an inquisitive glance at
the chief constable's wife, "what about you? Your husband's supposed
to have done better than any one except Mr. Filmer."

The little woman flushed. She was perfectly aware that Manson was
credited with making his fortune, and perhaps he had. But she had no
knowledge of it. For a while she knew he was dealing in property, and
then one morning he told her he had sold out. Her heart leaped at the
news, for Manson in the past year or so had changed. Invariably
austere, he had been nevertheless kind and considerate--b