And Mr. Endicott searched out Michael and studied the beautiful face keenly, looking in vain for any marks of degradation or fast living. The head was lifted with its conquering look; the eyes shone forth like jewels. Michael was a man, a son—to be proud of, he told himself, and breathed a heavy sigh. That was one time when his stubbornness had not conquered, and he found himself glad in spite of himself that it had not. The opening exercises were mere preliminary speeches and resolutions, mixed with music, and interspersed by the introduction of the mayor of the city and one or two other notables who said a few apathetic words of commendation for the work in hand and retired on their laurels. “I understand this Dr. Glidden who is to speak is quite an eloquent fellow,” said Starr’s father as the President got up to introduce the speaker of the evening whom all had come to hear. “The man who was just talking with me says he is really worth hearing. If he grows tiresome we will slip out. I wonder which one he is? He must be that man with the iron-gray hair over there.” “Oh, I don’t want to go out,” said Starr. “I like it. I never was in a great meeting like this. I like to hear them cheer.” Her cheeks were rosy, for in her heart she was finding out that she had a great longing to stay there and watch Michael a little longer. “I am sorry to have to tell you that our friend and advertised speaker for the evening was called away by the sudden and serious illness of his mother, and left for the West on the six o’clock express,” said the chairman in his inadequate little voice that seemed always straining beyond its height and never accomplishing anything in the way of being heard. A sigh of disappointment swept over the part of the audience near enough to the platform to hear, and some men reached for their hats. “Well, now that’s a pity,” whispered Endicott. “I guess we better go before they slip in any dry old substitutes. I’ve been seen here, that’s enough.” But Starr laid a detaining hand on her father’s arm. “Wait a little, Daddy,” she said softly. “But he has sent a substitute,” went on the chairman, “a man whom he says is a hundred per cent. better able to talk on the subject than himself. He spoke to me from the station ’phone just before he left and told me that he felt that you would all agree he had done well to go when you had heard the man whom he has sent in his place. I have the pleasure to introduce to you Mr. Michael Endicott who will speak to you this evening on the “Needs of the Tenement Dwellers”—Mr. Endicott.” Amid the silence that ensued after the feebly-polite applause Michael rose. For just an instant he stood, looking over the audience and a strange subtle thrill ran over the vast assemblage. Then Michael, insensibly measuring the spacious hall, flung his clear, beautiful voice out into it, and reached the uttermost bounds of the room.