r years had surrounded them and shut them
off from divine communication. And they themselves were thoroughly
startled by it.

The Bishop ceased, and at first he himself did not realize what had
happened. Neither did they. Burns still sat with his head bowed
between his knees. The man leaning against the fence looked at the
Bishop with a face in which new emotions of awe, repentance,
astonishment and a broken gleam of joy struggled for expression. The
Bishop rose.

"Come, my brothers. God is good. You shall stay at the Settlement
tonight, and I will make good my promise as to the work."

The two men followed him in silence. When they reached the
Settlement it was after two o'clock. He let them in and led them to
a room. At the door he paused a moment. His tall, commanding figure
stood in the doorway and his pale face was illuminated with the
divine glory.

"God bless you, my brothers!" he said, and leaving them his
benediction he went away.

Chapter Twenty-eight

IT WAS the afternoon of that morning when Burns was installed in his
new position as assistant janitor that he was cleaning off the front
steps of the Settlement, when he paused a moment and stood up to
look about him. The first thing he noticed was a beer sign just
across the alley. He could almost touch it with his broom from where
he stood. Over the street immediately opposite were two large
saloons, and a little farther down were three more.

Suddenly the door of the nearest saloon opened and a man came out.
At the same time two more went in. A strong odor of beer floated up
to Burns as he stood on the steps. He clutched his broom handle
tightly and began to sweep again. He had one foot on the porch and
another on the steps just below. He took another step down, still
sweeping. The sweat stood on his forehead although the day was
frosty and the air chill. The saloon door opened again and three or
four men came out. A child went in with a pail, and came out a
moment later with a quart of beer. The child went by on the sidewalk
just below him, and the odor of the beer came up to him. He took
another step down, still sweeping desperately. His fingers were
purple as he clutched the handle of the broom.

Then suddenly he pulled himself up one step and swept over the spot
he had just cleaned. He then dragged himself by a tremendous effort
back to the floor of the porch and went over into the corner of it
farthest from the saloon and began to sw