t, a hospital in these
wilds?"

"The name is more ambitious than the idea, Mr. Channing. What I hope to
build is merely another small cabin for women, on the other side of my
schoolhouse, and perhaps later an isolated building for contagious
cases."

"And who is to care for your patients?"

"Oh, I have plenty of assistance. Some of the women have become
excellent nurses, and one or two of the boys show a distinct aptitude
for medicine. We shall make doctors of them yet." He broke off
apologetically. "You will think that I have a partiality for hygienic
matters, and perhaps I have. It is my theory that most crime is
traceable to physical causes; to disease; and as most disease is the
result of ignorance--" he shrugged. "You will see why I consider hygiene
an important part of my school curriculum."

Channing was looking at him curiously. His manner had lost its
patronage. "May I ask," he said, "whether the State finances this
institution of yours?"

"No. The nearest school supplied by the State is miles away, over roads
which for part of the year are almost impassable. That is why I happened
to settle here."

"Then who does finance it? Yourself?"

The teacher smiled. "It is not 'financed' at all, nor does it need to
be. My pupils supply me with food and fuel and free labor, in return for
which I share with them what 'book-larnin'' I happen to possess. And I
wish there were more of it! What few books are needed I manage to
provide. Mine is more a practical course than an academic one, you see."

Jacqueline had been listening with deep interest, her face a-glow. "And
yet you think you are not a Christian!" she said softly. "Why, you are
doing just such a thing as Christ might have done Himself."

"In a more up-to-date manner, I hope, young lady," shrugged the teacher.
"We have gone far in 1900 years."

Jacqueline subsided, shocked. She wished Philip were there to put this
irreverent person in his place.

"Have you never," questioned Channing, "considered asking for help from
outside? Rich people go in for this sort of thing a great deal nowadays.
It is quite a fashionable philanthropy."

"I have no acquaintance among rich people," said the other, "and I do
not think my neighbors would care to accept philanthropy. They are
proud."

Channing said, rather nicely, "If they are proud, they will understand
that I prefer to pay for value received." He slipped into the box a bill
whose denomination made the Apost