re heard in the entry; some one was stamping
off snow. In a twinkling she went ahead with her building. "Here
comes the parson to chat with father and mother," she thought. Now
she would have the whole evening to herself. And with renewed
courage she began to lay the foundation of a schoolhouse as big as
half the parish.

Her mother, who had also heard the steps in the hall, got up
quickly and drew an old armchair up to the fireplace. Then turning
to her husband, she said: "Shall you tell him about it to-night?"

"Yes," answered the schoolmaster, "as soon as I can get round to
it."

Presently the pastor came in, half frozen and glad to be in a warm
room where he could sit by an open fire. He was very talkative, as
usual. It would be hard to find a more likable man than the parson
when he came in of an evening to chat about all sorts of things,
big and little. He spoke with such ease and assurance of everything
pertaining to this world, that one could scarcely believe that he
and the dull preacher were one and the same person. But if you
happened to speak to him about spiritual things he grew red in the
face, began fishing for words, and never said anything that was
convincing, unless he chanced to mention that "God governs wisely."

When the parson had settled himself comfortably, the schoolmaster
suddenly turned to him and said in a cheery tone:

"Now I must tell you the news: I'm going to build a mission house."

The clergyman became as white as a sheet and sank back in his
chair.

"What are you saying, Storm?" he gasped. "Are they really thinking
of building a mission house here? Then what's to become of me and
the church? Are we to be dispensed with?"

"The church and the pastor will be needed just the same," returned
the schoolmaster with a confident air. "It is my purpose that the
mission house shall promote the welfare of the church. With so many
schisms cropping up all over the country, the church is sorely in
need of help."

"I thought you were my friend, Storm," said the parson, mournfully.
Only a few moments before he had come in confident and happy, and
now all at once his spirit was gone, and he looked as if he were
entirely done for.

The schoolmaster understood quite well why the pastor was so
distressed. He and every one else knew that at one time the
clergyman had been a man of rare promise; but in his student days
he had "gone the pace," so to speak, and, in consequence, had
suffered a s