ied
to make it plain to you why the church could not accept your money. Your
own daughter, cannot accept it."

"There was a time," retorted the banker, "when you did not refuse to
accept it."

"Yes," Holder replied, "that is true." It came to him vividly then that
it had been Alison herself who had cast the enlightening gleam which
revealed his inconsistency. But he did not defend himself.

"I can see nothing in all this, Mr. Hodder, but a species of insanity,"
said Eldon Parr, and there crept into his tone both querulousness and
intense exasperation. "In the first place, you insist upon marrying my
daughter when neither she nor you have any dependable means of support.
She never spared her criticisms of me, and you presume to condemn me,
a man who, if he has neglected his children, has done so because he has
spent too much of his time in serving his community and his country, and
who has--if I have to say it myself--built up the prosperity which you
and others are doing your best to tear down, and which can only result in
the spread of misery. You profess to have a sympathy with the masses,
but you do not know them as I do. They cannot control themselves, they
require a strong hand. But I am not asking for your sympathy. I have
been misunderstood all my life, I have become used to ingratitude, even
from my children, and from the rector of the church for which I have done
more than any other man."

Hodder stared at him in amazement.

"You really believe that!" he exclaimed.

"Believe it!" Eldon Parr repeated. "I have had my troubles, as heavy
bereavements as a man can have. All of them, even this of my son's
death, all the ingratitude and lack of sympathy I have experienced--"
(he looked deliberately at Hodder) "have not prevented me, do not prevent
me to-day from regarding my fortune as a trust. You have deprived St.
John's, at least so long as you remain there, of some of its benefits,
and the responsibility for that is on your own head. And I am now making
arrangements to give to Calvary the settlement house which St. John's
should have had."

The words were spoken with such an air of conviction, of unconscious
plausibility, as it were, that it was impossible for Hodder to doubt the
genuineness of the attitude they expressed. And yet it was more than his
mind could grasp . . . . Horace Bentley, Richard Garvin, and the
miserable woman of the streets whom he had driven to destroy herself had
made absolutely no