, but it is the injustice
of the thing that makes one wild, and worst of all, the knowing that
this is what drives people into atheism this is what dishonors the name
of Christ."

"You are right," he replied, with a sigh; "that IS the worst of it. I
have come to the conclusion that to be tolerant to the intolerant is the
most difficult thing in life."

"You must have plenty of practice in this dreadful place," said Erica.

He smiled a little.

"Why, to be seen talking to ME will make people say all sorts of evil of
you," she added. "I wish I had thought of that before."

"You wouldn't have spoken to me?" asked Donovan, laughing. "Then I am
very glad it didn't occur to you. But about that you may be quite easy;
nothing could make them think much worse of me than they do already. I
began life as the black sheep of the neighborhood, and it is easier for
the Ethiopian to change his skin than for a man to live down the past
in public opinion. I shall be, at any rate, the dusky gray sheep of the
place to the end of my life."

There was no bitterness, no shade of complaint in his tone; he merely
stated a fact. Erica was amazed; she knew that he was about the only man
who attempted to grapple with the evil and degradation and poverty of
Greyshot.

"You see," he continued, with a bright look which seemed to raise Erica
into purer atmosphere, "it is not the public estimation which makes a
man's character. There is one question, which I think we ought never to
ask ourselves, and that is 'What will people think of me?' It should be
instead: 'How can I serve?'"

"But if they take away your power, how can you serve?"

"They can't take it away; they may check and hinder for a time, that is
all. I believe one may serve always and everywhere."

"You don't mean that I can serve that roomful of enemies in there?"

"That is exactly what I do mean," he answered, smiling a little.

In the meantime, Lady Caroline was apologizing to Mr. Cuthbert.

"I don't know when I have been so vexed!" she exclaimed. "It is really
too bad of Mrs. Fane-Smith. I had no idea that the Burne-Jones angel I
promised you was the daughter of that disgraceful man. What a horrible
satire, is it not?"

"Pray, don't apologize," said Mr. Cuthbert. "It was really rather
amusing than otherwise, and I fancy the young lady will be in no great
hurry to force her way into society again."

He laughed a soft, malicious, chuckling laugh.

"I should hope not, i