Grace answered, "Certainly not!" She was not going to marry H. R., but if you intend to have it known that you have refused to marry a man who is crazy to marry you, the greater the man the greater the refusal. She added, with conviction: "There is only one Rutgers like that and his first name is Hendrik." Reggie nodded, looked at her, sighed, and began to dance. He didn't touch H. R. as a dancer. "Can you do the Rutgers Roll?" she asked. "No!" he confessed. She could never marry Reggie. She knew it now. But of course she would not marry H. R. In the mean time H. R., accompanied by the reporters, drove to the Cardinal's residence. They explained their mission to a pleasant-faced young priest and sent in their cards. The young priest began to make excuses and spoke of the lateness of the hour. H. R. said to him, deferentially: "Monsignor, we have come to the Cardinal because he is the supreme authority in this case. The Mayor of New York and the representative of the Socialist press, Mr. Lubin, here, have agreed to leave it to the decision of his Eminence." The Cardinal sent back word that he would see Mr. Rutgers. H. R. went in alone. He saw not the head of the Catholic hierarchy, but a man in whose eyes was that light which comes from believing in God and from hearing the truth from fellow-men who told him their sins. H. R. bowed respectfully before the aged priest. "How may I help you? asked the Cardinal. He was an old man and this was a young man. No more; no less; both of them children. "Your Eminence, I am the unfortunate American who in his misguided way has tried to feed the hungry in order that New York's grown children may realize that charity is not dead. If I have used the methods of a mountebank it is because I have labored where God had been forgotten, almost." "Generalities are not always verities, though they may come close to them. I know about your work. I shall be glad to do what I can for you." "Thank you, sir. I promised to give ten thousand dollars in cash to any New-Yorker who could answer this question: What is it we have all heard about from earnest childhood and that we acknowledge exists; that is neither a person nor a beast, neither a thing nor an object, but something that no man can kill, though it is dead to-day; that all men need and most New-Yorkers neglect; that should be present everywhere and is found in no trade? The answer is a word of five letters and begins with 'A.' There is a synonym that, though not exactly obsolete, is at least obsolescent." "Five letters? Is it in English?" smiled the Cardinal. "It is in every good English dictionary. I think the dictionary is the only place in which I can find it nowadays." "Oh no, my son." And the Cardinal shook his head in kindly dissent. "Reverend sir, I said anybody with brains could guess it." "It was not an ingenuous question, Mr. Rutgers."