s peace--peace
from the noise of life, and strength to fight and to vanquish. But the
Church must be the Church of God--not of the world, the flesh, and the
devil.

"Ask the canon if he can see me immediately," said John Storm to the
footman, and he stood in the hall for the answer.

The canon had taken tea that day in the study with his daughter Felicity.
He was reclining on the sofa, propped up with velvet cushions, and
holding the teacup and saucer like the wings of a butterfly in both
hands.

"We have been deceived, my dear" (sip, sip), "and we must pay the penalty
of the deception. Yet we have nothing to blame ourselves for--nothing
whatever. Here was a young man, from Heaven knows where, bent on entering
the diocese. True, he was merely the son of a poor lord who had lived the
life of a hermit, but he was also the nephew, and presumably the heir, of
the Prime Minister of England" (sip, sip, sip). "Well, I gave him his
title. I received him into my house. I made him free of my family--and
what is the result? He has disregarded my instructions, antagonized my
supporters, and borne himself toward me with an attitude of defiance, if
not disdain."

Felicity poured out a second cup of tea for her father, sympathized with
him, and set forth her own grievances. The young man had no conversation,
and his reticence was quite embarrassing. Sometimes when she had friends,
and asked him to come down, his silence--well, really----

"We might have borne with these little deficiencies, my dear, if the
Prime Minister had been deeply interested. But he is not. I doubt if he
has ever seen his nephew since that first occasion. And when I called at
Downing Street, about the time of the sermon, he seemed entirely
undisturbed. 'The young man is in the wrong place, my dear canon; send
him back to me.' That was all."

"Then why don't you do it?" said Felicity.

"It is coming to that, my child; but blood is thicker than water, you
know, and after all----"

It was at this moment the footman entered the room to ask if the canon
could see Mr. Storm.

"Ah, the man himself!" said the canon, rising. "Jenkyns, remove the
tray." Dropping his voice: "Felicity, I will ask you to leave us
together. After what occurred this morning at the hospital anything like
a scene----" Then aloud: "Bring him in, Jenkyns.--Say something, my dear.
Why don't you speak?--Come in, my dear Storm.--You'll see to that matter
for me, Felicity. Thanks, thanks!