"By the way, I didn't know that you felt enough interest in the elections to induce you to parade the streets on their account." "Oh, it was the doctor's fault. He got me into the medley, and then deserted because he found it too democratic." "It is democracy turned upsidedown that I object to," remarked Salvers. "There seems a lack of decency about it--as if we were to awake some morning to find the statue of Liberty on its head, with its legs in the air. I believe in the old conservative goddess of our fathers--Freedom shackled by the chains of respectability." "So did Father Algarcife once," said Nevins. "He had an oration entitled 'The Jeffersonian Principles' which he used to deliver before the mirror when he thought I was asleep." "I believe in it still," interrupted Father Algarcife, "but I no longer deliver orations. Greater wisdom has made me silent. Well, I suppose the result of last night was hardly a surprise." "Hardly," responded Nevins. "What can one expect when everybody who knows the value of an office is running for it, and everybody who doesn't is blowing horns about the runners. But I won't keep you. Good-day." "Good-day." Nevins turned back. "By the way," he said to Father Algarcife, "I wish you would drop in and look at that portrait the first chance you have. I am waiting for your criticism." "Very well. Congratulate Ardly for me." And they separated, Salvers motioning to his coachman to follow him to the church. Upon going inside, Father Algarcife found his principal assistant, a young fellow with a fair, fresh face, like a girl's, and a high forehead, surmounted by waves of flaxen hair. His name was Ellerslie, and his devotional sincerity was covered by a shy and nervous manner. He greeted the elder priest with a furtive deprecation, the result of an innate humility of character. "I went by the rectory as soon as I had seen the morning papers," he said. "Thank God you escaped unhurt!" The irritation with which Father Algarcife had replied to Nevins's solicitude did not appear now. "I hope you were not troubled by the report," he answered. "There was absolutely nothing in it except that I was struck by a vehicle and stunned slightly. But the exaggerated accounts have caused me a great deal of annoyance. By the way, John," and his face softened, "I have not told you how much I liked your last sermon." The other flushed and shook his head. "They fall so far short," he returned, and his voice trembled. "I know now that I shall never be able to speak. When I face the people there is so much that I want to say that I grow dumb. My feeling is so strong that my words are weak." "Time may change that." "No," said Ellerslie; "but if I may listen to you I am content. I will serve God in humble ways. It is the service that I love, after all, and not the glory." "Yes, yes," responded Father Algarcife, gently.