"'No! no!' quoth the friar; 'you shall see a miracle. It shall not burn at all if you bring me some eggs.' "So she brought the eggs and he dropped them in the pan. "'Quick!' cried he, 'some butter and milk, or pan and egg will both burn.' "So she ran for the butter, and the friar took salt from the table and threw it into the pan with butter and eggs and milk, and when all was done he set the pan on the table, whetstone and all, and calling the woman, he bade her tell her friends how she had witnessed a miracle, and how a holy friar had made a good meal of a fried whetstone." Father Mohl was now angered in his turn. Priests, having surrendered the love of women, cling with double tenacity to their reverence. "A merry tale, sir," said he, smoothly, "though better suited to the ale-house than the lady's table, and more meet for the ears of scoffers than of believers--Daughter," turning to Mary Brent, "you were amazed a moment since at the wonders God hath wrought through the hands of His chosen ones; but the judgments of the Lord are no less marvellous than His mercies. There was a Calvinist settled at Kent Fort who made sport over our holy observances." Elinor Calvert colored and looked from under her eyelids at Neville. But he went on plying his knife and fork. "If he were angry," she said to herself, "he would not eat." But in this she mistook the nature of man, judging it by her own. "Yes," continued Father Mohl, "although, thanks to our prayers, the wretch was rescued from drowning on the blessed day of Pentecost, yet he showed thanks neither to God nor to us. Coming upon a company offering their vows to the saints, he began impudently to jeer at these religious men, and flung back ribald jests as he pushed his boat from shore. The next morning his boat was found overturned in the Bay, and he was never heard of more." Neville looked up. "I am glad," he said, "to be able to supply a happier ending to your story. The man, as it happens, was picked up by an outward-bound ship, and is alive and well in England to-day." "You knew the blasphemer, then?" "I know the man of whom you speak--a fine fellow he is, and the foe of all liars and hypocrites." "Ah, I forgot," answered Father Mohl, smoothly, "you are not one of us." "Not I," cried Neville, hotly; "I have cast in my lot with honest men." "Say no more," said Mohl, satisfied, "lest thou too blaspheme and die! _Misereatur tui, Omnipotens Deus!_" Having thus achieved the difficult task of giving offence and granting forgiveness at the same time, Father Mohl smiled and leaned back content.