oing to marry a dying woman," he
declared; "and I'm not going to take up any faded ninny that you and
father may pick out. I'm going to please myself, and when you decide
that I mustn't, just say the word and I'll hull out. And I don't want to
hear anything about crackers or white trash, either. That's me."

His mother must have agreed that it was, for the weeks went by and not
again did she drop a hint of her anxiety.

One rainy afternoon the Major and old Gid were sitting on a tool-box
under the barn shed, when Father Brennon came riding down the road.

"As they say over the creek, light and look at your saddle!" the Major
shouted.

With a nod and a smile the priest rode through the gate, dismounted,
gave his horse over to a negro who, in answer to a shout, had come
forward from some mysterious precinct of the barn-yard, shook hands with
the Major and Gid, and gracefully declining a seat on the tool-box,
rolled a barrel from against the wall and upon it seated himself.

"More in accordance with the life of a priest," he said, tapping the
barrel with his knuckles. "It is rolling."

"Ah," replied the Major, "and a barrel may also typify the reckless
layman. It is often full."

The priest gave to this remark the approval of a courteous laugh. Even
though he might stand in a slippery place, how well he knew his ground.
To call forth a weak joke and then to commend it with his merriment--how
delightful a piece of flattery. And it can, in truth, be said that in
his heart he was sincere. To be pleasing was to him an art, and this art
was his second nature.

"Mr. Brennon," said the Major (and under no compulsion would he have
said father), "I have thought a great deal of the argument we had some
time ago; and I have wondered, sir, that in coming to this community to
proselyte the negro, you did not observe the secrecy with which the
affairs of your church are usually conducted. But understand, please,
that I do not mean to reflect upon the methods of your creed, but
simply wonder that you have not followed a recognized precedent."

The priest had taken hold of the chine at each end of the barrel and was
slowly rolling himself backward and forward. "I fail to see why any
secrecy should be observed in my work," he replied. "The Catholic church
has never made a secret of doing good--for we believe in the potency of
example. If we elevate the moral condition of one man, it is well that
another man should know it. The Me