."

Philip had the week before addressed a large meeting of working-men, and
in the course of his speech he had called attention to the saloon as one
of the greatest foes of the wage-earner.

"Is that all?" Philip asked.

"All, man alive!--isn't it enough? What more do you hanker after?"

"Of course I don't 'hanker after' being held up or attacked, but these
men are mistaken if they think to frighten me."

"They mean more than frighten, Mr. Strong. They mean business."

"Why don't you have them arrested, then, for conspiracy? If you
overheard their talk they are guilty and could be convicted."

"Not in Milton, Mr. Strong. Besides, there was no name mentioned. And
the talk was scattering-like. They are shrewd devils. But we could tell
they meant you plain enough--not to prove anything in court, though."

"And you came to warn me? That was kind of you, my brother!" Philip
spoke with the winsome affection for men that made his hold on common
people like the grappling vine with loving tendrils.

"Yes, Mr. Strong, and I tell you the rummies will almost hold a
prayer-meeting when you leave Milton. And they mean to make you trouble
enough until you do leave. If I was you," the man paused, curiously--"if
I was you, I'd get up and leave this God-forsaken town, Mr. Strong."

"You would?" Philip glanced at the letter which still lay upon the couch
beside him. "Suppose I should say I had about made up my mind to do just
that thing?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Strong, you don't mean that!" The man made a gesture toward
Philip that revealed a world of longing and of hunger for fellowship
that made Philip's heart throb with a feeling of intense joy, mingled
with an ache of pain. The man at once repressed his emotion. It had been
like a lightning flash out of a summer cloud.

"Yes," said Philip, as if continuing, "I have been thinking of leaving
Milton."

"That might be best. You're in danger here. No telling when some harm
may come to you."

"Well, I'm thinking I might as well leave. My work here has been a
failure, anyway."

"What! A failure? Mr. Strong, you don't know the facts. There has never
been a minister in Milton who did so much for the poor and the
working-man as yourself! Let me tell you," the man continued, with an
earnestness that concealed an emotion he was trying to subdue, "Mr.
Strong, if you were to leave Milton now, it would be a greater loss to
the common people than you can imagine. You may not know it, but yo