atever. Presently he felt Mr. Dayne's eye upon him.

"Well, would it work out, do you think?"

The Director shook his head slightly, disclaiming authority. But after a
time he said:

"Not as long as men'll try it only once every two thousand years."

The parson's eyes dreamed off.

"He believed in miracles. And so they were always happening to him....
Oh, it's all so simple when you stop to think."

Then there was silence and the creeping twilight. Sam O'Neill stood
picking at a splotch on the ancient plaster, with strong, yellow-gloved
hands. Mr. Dayne walked about, his arms crossed behind him. Upon Pond
there came a sort of restlessness.

He said abruptly: "How long' has Miss Heth been here?"

"Oh--a--little while," said the parson, rousing.... "Long enough, no
doubt."

The dark-eyed Director was standing. The two men exchanged a look; they
seemed to feel each other. Here was a matter with which the Labor
Commissioner had nothing to do.

"Well, then," said Pond, with a little intake of breath, "I'll go in."

The Director shut the door into the hall, took his hat from the chair.
He crossed the bare waiting-room, and turned the knob of the frequented
door into the office.

This door he opened, gently, just far enough to let himself in; he
closed it at once behind him. Nevertheless, by the chance of their
position, the other two saw, through the darkness of the room beyond,
what was not meant for their eyes.

A simple scene, in all truth; none commoner in the world; it really did
not matter who saw. Yet the two men in the waiting-room, beholding,
turned away, and Sam O'Neill bit a groan through in the middle.

He had never understood his friend, but he had loved him in his way. Old
memories twitched; his poise wavered. He lacked the parson's inner
supports. He paced about for some time, making little noises in his
throat. And then he tried his voice on a question.

"Did you ever hear him speak of John the Baptist?"

Mr. Dayne halted, and looked.

And Sam O'Neill, with some difficulty and in his own way, told of V.V.'s
creed about the Huns. Of how he had maintained that they needed
awakening, nothing else, and were always ready and waiting for it, no
matter how little they themselves knew that. And, finally, how he had
said one day--in a phrase that had been brought flashing back over the
months--that if a man but called to such as these in the right voice, he
could not hide himself where they would n