Channing was looking at him curiously. His manner had lost its patronage. "May I ask," he said, "whether the State finances this institution of yours?" "No. The nearest school supplied by the State is miles away, over roads which for part of the year are almost impassable. That is why I happened to settle here." "Then who does finance it? Yourself?" The teacher smiled. "It is not 'financed' at all, nor does it need to be. My pupils supply me with food and fuel and free labor, in return for which I share with them what 'book-larnin'' I happen to possess. And I wish there were more of it! What few books are needed I manage to provide. Mine is more a practical course than an academic one, you see." Jacqueline had been listening with deep interest, her face a-glow. "And yet you think you are not a Christian!" she said softly. "Why, you are doing just such a thing as Christ might have done Himself." "In a more up-to-date manner, I hope, young lady," shrugged the teacher. "We have gone far in 1900 years." Jacqueline subsided, shocked. She wished Philip were there to put this irreverent person in his place. "Have you never," questioned Channing, "considered asking for help from outside? Rich people go in for this sort of thing a great deal nowadays. It is quite a fashionable philanthropy." "I have no acquaintance among rich people," said the other, "and I do not think my neighbors would care to accept philanthropy. They are proud." Channing said, rather nicely, "If they are proud, they will understand that I prefer to pay for value received." He slipped into the box a bill whose denomination made the Apostle's eyes open wide. "Fifty dollars!" he exclaimed in awe, "That's right, son--'Give up all thou hast and follow Me.' 'It is harder fer a rich man to enter into heaven than fer a camuel to go thoo the eye of a needle.' That's the way to git religion!--" The teacher bowed, gravely. "The Woman's Ward is now an accomplished fact. Thank you, Mr. Channing." For the first part of the journey down the mountain, the author had rather enjoyed the novel role of uncomplaining sufferer. The teacher's presence was both stimulating and reassuring. After he turned back, however, with a final look at the bandages, reaction set in. The sufferer's cheerfulness relapsed into a wincing silence, broken occasionally by faint groans, when a stumble on the part of his bearers set loose all the various aches that racked his body.