this case."

"Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl here?"

"No, there are other reasons."

"I thought so."

"You've heard her story--you MUST have heard. She was left with me by an
old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. Before he died
he asked me to look after her. She has no one else. I shall certainly do
so."

"That was when she was hurt. She's well now, and able to go back where
she came from. Do you expect us to have our young folks associatin' with
a circus ridin' girl?"

"So, that's it!" cried the pastor, with a pitying look. "You think this
child is unfit for your homes because she was once in a circus. For
some reason, circus to you spells crime. You call yourself a Christian,
Deacon Strong, and yet you insist that I send a good, innocent girl
back to a life which you say is sinful. I'm ashamed of you, Strong--I'm
ashamed of you!"

"That talk don't do no good with me," roared Strong. He was desperate at
being accused of an unchristian attitude.

"I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus. I don't care WHERE
you send her. Get her away from HERE, that's all."

"Not so long as she wishes to stay."

"You won't?" Strong saw that he must try a new attack. He came close to
Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation. "If you was a friend to
the girl, you wouldn't want the whole congregation a-pointin' fingers at
her."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks bad--bad for
the girl, and bad for YOU--and folks is talkin'."

"Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough to
think that I--" Douglas stopped. He could not frame the question. "I
don't believe it," he concluded shortly.

"You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl."

"Do YOU believe it?" He turned upon the little man at his side! "Do you
believe it, Elverson?"

Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the conversation,
that he had become hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and the
sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his power of speech. He was still
gurgling and sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.

"It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're going to do
our duty by the church, and that girl must leave or----"

"Or I must." Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. "That
threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have said,
I should refuse