ng his hands, he pronounced the
benediction, and the people dispersed in disorder.

With a strained "Good-night, sir," to the evangelist and a courteous bow
to Mrs. Gwynne, the Rector followed the people, leaving the evangelist
and his wife behind packing up their hymn books and organ, their faces
only too clearly showing the distress which they felt. Mrs. Gwynne moved
toward them.

"I am truly grieved," she said, addressing the evangelist, "that you
were not given an opportunity to deliver your message."

"What a terrible creature that is," he exclaimed in a tone indicating
nervous anxiety.

"Oh, you mean poor John?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "The poor man is quite
harmless. He became excited with the unusual character of the meeting.
He will disturb you no more."

"I fear it is useless," said the evangelist. "I cannot continue in the
face of this opposition."

"It may be difficult, but not useless," replied Mrs. Gwynne, the light
of battle glowing in her grey eyes.

"Ah, I do not know. It may not be wise to stir up bad feeling in a
community, to bring the name of religion into disrepute by strife.
But," he continued, offering his hand, "let me thank you warmly for your
sympathy. It was splendidly courageous of you. Do you--do you attend his
church?"

"Yes, we worship with the Episcopal Church. I am a Friend myself."

"Ah, then it was a splendidly courageous act. I honour you for it."

"But you will continue your mission?" she replied earnestly.

"Alas, I can hardly see how the mission can be continued. There seems to
be no opening."

Mrs. Gwynne apparently lost interest. "Good-bye," she said simply,
shaking hands with them both, and without further words left the room
with her boy. For some distance they walked together along the dark road
in silence. Then in an awed voice the boy said:

"How could you do it, mother? You were not a bit afraid."

"Afraid of what, the Rector?"

"No, not the Rector--but to speak up that way before all the people."

"It was hard to speak," said his mother, "very hard, but it was harder
to keep silent. It did not seem right."

The boy's heart swelled with a new pride in his mother. "Oh, mother,"
he said, "you were splendid. You were like a soldier standing there. You
were like the martyrs in my book."

"Oh, no, no, my boy."

"I tell you yes, mother, I was proud of you."

The thrilling passion in the little boy's voice went to his mother's
heart. "Were you, my boy?" she sa