And then, with joy in his heart, though a sigh of relief upon his lips--there may have been traces of a lump somewhere in his throat as well, but if so, he did not acknowledge it--he turned to his letters, and found among them a communication from Herbert Montmorency Minks, announcing that he had found an ideal site, and that it cost so and so much per acre--also that the County Council had made no difficulties. There was a hint, moreover--a general flavour of resentment and neglect at his master's prolonged absence--that it would not be a bad thing for the great Scheme if Mr. Rogers could see his way to return to London 'before very long.' 'Bother the fellow!' thought he; 'what a nuisance he is, to be sure!' And he answered him at once. 'Do not trouble about a site just yet,' he wrote; 'there is no hurry for the moment.' He made a rapid calculation in his head. He had paid those mortgages out of capital, and the sum represented just about the cost of the site Minks mentioned. But results were immediate. There was no loss, no waste in fees and permits and taxes. Each penny did its work. 'There's the site gone, anyhow,' he laughed to himself. 'The foundation will go next, then the walls. But, at any rate, they needed it. The Commune Charity would have had 'em at the end of the month. They're my neighbours after all. And I must find out from them who else in the village needs a leg up. For these people are worth helping, and I can see exactly where every penny goes.' Bit by bit, as it would seem, the great Scheme for Disabled Thingumagigs was being undermined. CHAPTER XXII And those who were good shall be happy. They shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas With brushes of comets' hair. They shall have real saints to paint from-- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; They shall work for an age at a sitting And never get tired at all. And only the Master shall praise them, And only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, And no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, And each in his separate star, Shall draw the thing as he sees it For the God of things as they are, R. KIPLING.