r. I am simply an arrant
coward. I tell you, Grady, I hate myself for it."

"Now, look here," said his companion earnestly, "you are not a coward.
You can preach. It is in you, and it will come out, yet. I call this
sermon nothing short of a masterpiece. If you can not brace up now,
the occasion will come to loosen your tongue. It surely will."

"This is the worst day I have had," groaned poor Father Collins. "I am
shaking like a leaf, already. Look here, Grady, do me a favor just
this once. You preach so easily. You can get up a sermon in half an
hour. You have nothing to do until half past ten. Now, let me go out
and make the announcements and read the Gospel at the nine o'clock
Mass. Most of the children will be there and I can say a few words to
them. You preach at High Mass."

"Well, I ought not to do it," said Father Grady, thoughtfully, "for if
I do such things, it may spoil you. You ought not to give way,
but--you are white as a sheet, man. Well, I am going to do it this
time, so I had better look over something."

Father Collins was overjoyed. He could not help it. He went to the
church to prepare for the Mass and prompt to the minute he was in the
sanctuary.

The Mass had proceeded as far as the end of the first Gospel, when the
Sacristan came to the priest's side and whispered a message. He was
plainly excited, and trying hard to conceal it from the congregation.
Father Collins leaned over to hear what he had to say.

"Keep your head, Father. There is a fire in the church basement now,
right under your feet. The firemen are working on it, but can't put it
out. We have stopped people from coming in to stampede the others. The
galleries are filled with the children, and we have to get them out,
first. If there is a rush the children will be killed at the bottom of
the gallery stairs, where they meet the people from the body of the
church out in that vestibule. The chief sent me to you to tell you to
go on preaching and hold the grown folks down stairs for ten minutes.
The firemen will get the little ones out without noise or fuss, if you
can keep the attention of the people. I'll whisper 'all right' to you
when they are gone. Then you tell the rest to file out quietly. It is
the only chance you have to save those children in this ramshackle old
building, so you preach for all you are worth and don't let the people
look up at the galleries. There will be hundreds of little ones owe
their lives to you, Fat