"I don't quite know what to say," replied his friend. "It isn't anything I can point to and say he has done this or that, because he gets beneath the surface, as you might say, and works there. But I do know that where there is an element of strife among the men, there you will find him as peacemaker--he has a wonderful way with them, but it is indefinable. We don't know all he does, for he never speaks of it, only every once in a while something leaks out. I know that where there is a sickbed and a quarryman on it, there you will find Champney Googe as watcher after his day's work--and tender in his ministrations as a woman. I know that when sickness continues and the family are dependent on the fund, Champney Googe works many a night overtime and gives his extra pay to help out. I know, too, that when a strike threatens, he, who is now in the union because he is convinced he can help best there, is the balance-wheel, and prevents radical unreason and its results. There's trouble brewing there now--about the automatic bush hammer--" "I have heard of it." "--And Jim McCann is proving intractable. Mr. Googe is at work with him, and hopes to bring him round to a just point of view. And I know, moreover, that when there is a crime committed and a criminal to be dealt with, that criminal finds in the new foreman of Shed Number Two a friend who, without condoning the crime, stands by him as a human being. I know that out of his own deep experience he is able to reach out to other men in need, as few can. In all this his wife is his helpmate, his mother his inspiration.--What more can I say?" "Nothing," said Henry Van Ostend gravely. "He has two children I hear--a boy and a girl. I should like to see her who was the little Aileen of twenty years ago." "I hope you may," said Father Honore cordially; "yes, he has two lovely children, Honore, now in his first knickerbockers, is my namesake--" Octavius interrupted him, smiling significantly: "He's something more than Father Honore's namesake, Mr. Van Ostend, he's his shadow when he is with him. The men have a little joke among themselves whenever they see the two together, and that's pretty often; they say Father Honore's shadow will never grow less till little Honore reaches his full growth." The priest smiled. "He and I are very, very close friends," was all he permitted himself to say, but the other men read far more than that into his words. Henry Van Ostend looked thoughtful. He considered with himself for a few minutes; then he spoke, weighing his words: