hat
shall we do to be saved?" Only Wolfe's face, with its heavy weight
of brain, its weak, uncertain mouth, its desperate eyes, out of which
looked the soul of his class,--only Wolfe's face turned towards Kirby's.
Mitchell laughed,--a cool, musical laugh.

"Money has spoken!" he said, seating himself lightly on a stone with the
air of an amused spectator at a play. "Are you answered?"--turning to
Wolfe his clear, magnetic face.

Bright and deep and cold as Arctic air, the soul of the man lay tranquil
beneath. He looked at the furnace-tender as he had looked at a rare
mosaic in the morning; only the man was the more amusing study of the
two.

"Are you answered? Why, May, look at him! 'De profundis clamavi.' Or, to
quote in English, 'Hungry and thirsty, his soul faints in him.' And so
Money sends back its answer into the depths through you, Kirby! Very
clear the answer, too!--I think I remember reading the same words
somewhere: washing your hands in Eau de Cologne, and saying, 'I am
innocent of the blood of this man. See ye to it!'"

Kirby flushed angrily.

"You quote Scripture freely."

"Do I not quote correctly? I think I remember another line, which may
amend my meaning? 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these,
ye did it unto me.' Deist? Bless you, man, I was raised on the milk of
the Word. Now, Doctor, the pocket of the world having uttered its
voice, what has the heart to say? You are a philanthropist, in a small
Way,--n'est ce pas? Here, boy, this gentleman can show you how to cut
korl better,--or your destiny. Go on, May!"

"I think a mocking devil possesses you to-night," rejoined the Doctor,
seriously.

He went to Wolfe and put his hand kindly on his arm. Something of a
vague idea possessed the Doctor's brain that much good was to be done
here by a friendly word or two: a latent genius to be warmed into life
by a waited-for sunbeam. Here it was: he had brought it. So he went on
complacently:

"Do you know, boy, you have it in you to be a great sculptor, a great
man? do you understand?" (talking down to the capacity of his hearer:
it is a way people have with children, and men like Wolfe,)--"to live a
better, stronger life than I, or Mr. Kirby here? A man may make himself
anything he chooses. God has given you stronger powers than many
men,--me, for instance."

May stopped, heated, glowing with his own magnanimity. And it was
magnanimous. The puddler had drunk in every word, looking thr