“At the moment I am without a—er—fixed charge,” he explained. “I travel about carrying the Word and doing what little good I can by the way. It sometimes happens, as in the present instance, that I am temporarily without a roof over my head or—only for the moment, I assure you—the necessary fuel to keep this poor machine of mine—er—going.” Dick’s face cleared. The fellow was some wandering preacher, possibly crack-brained, and apparently little better than a tramp. He had simply come in there for breakfast. “Oh, I see,” he said quickly. “You want something to eat. Just come out to the kitchen, will you?” The man followed him slowly, with majestic steps, but there was no mistaking the hungry glitter in his eyes or the suppressed eagerness with which he fell to on the simple fare which Dick laid before him. He certainly ate as if he were half starved, and Merriwell was far from regretting the time wasted in waiting until he had finished. When there was nothing more left in sight, Pennyfeather arose with a sigh. “Young man, I thank you,” he said sonorously. “Has it ever occurred to you what a degrading thing it is that these frail bodies of ours cannot long exist without carnal food?” Dick smiled. “I can’t say it has,” he returned promptly. “I have a decided partiality to good things to eat, especially when I come in after a day’s tramp through the woods, with an appetite like a horse.” “But what a shame it is that our soaring, ethereal spirits should be tied to earth by such carnal bonds,” persisted the preacher. “Were it not for the baleful necessity of food and drink what might not man accomplish!” He rolled his eyes in ecstasy and then slowly lowered them to Merriwell’s face. “A painful affliction which I have carried uncomplainingly from the cradle of childhood, compels occasional recourse to—er—stimulant,” he said blandly. “Periods of faintness, you know, from which nothing else seems to revive me. If, by any chance, you have something of the sort at hand——” The pause was expressive. Dick glanced swiftly at the thin man’s hushed nose. It would seem that the periods of faintness had been more or less frequent. “Sorry,” he said shortly, “but I haven’t.” The Reverend Pennyfeather sighed and clasped his hands together resignedly. “Ah, well, perhaps ’tis better so,” he murmured. “No doubt I shall get along without it. So far none of the attacks have been fatal. Perhaps you have no objection to my resting for a while before I resume my way.” Dick had a very decided objection. Enough time had been wasted already with this humbug. “You can take a chair out on the porch and sit there as long as you please,” he said shortly. “We are just leaving the house for the morning, however, and I want to lock up.”