"I never saw such a man," declared George Udell to Clara Wilson, one evening, as they caught a glimpse of him bending over a desk in Mr. Wicks' office, "he works like a fiend." "Like an angel, you'd better say," replied Clara. "Didn't I tell you that he was no common tramp?" "Yes, dear, of course; and you never made a mistake in your life; that is, never but once." "When was that?" asked Clara curiously. "When you said 'No' to me night before last. Won't you reconsider it, and--" "Where do you suppose Amy Goodrich is now?" interrupted the young lady. "Do you know, I have fancied at times, that Mr. Falkner learned something on his trip last fall, that he has not told us?" George opened his eyes. "What makes you think that?" "Oh, because; somehow he seems so different since he returned." But George shook his head. "I thought so too for a while," he replied; "but I talked with him just the other day, and I'm afraid he's given up all hope. He works to hide the hurt. But I'll tell you one thing, girlie, if anything could make a Christian of me, it would be Dick's life. There's something more than human in the way he stands up against this thing." Then Dick received another letter, from a post office in Texas. "Dere Dikkie: I take my pen in hand to let u no that Ime wel an hoape u ar the same. Jim Whitly is ded he don tried to nife me an i fixed him. he wanted to hire me to kil u fer some papers an we was in you ol caben kross the river from the still. He said ter tel u thet he lied to u an that Amy is pure. I don't no what he means but thot u ort ter no. I skipped--burn this. your daddys pard. "JAKE THOMPSON." The Association building was finished at last, and the pastor of the Jerusalem Church sat in his little den looking over the morning mail. There were the usual number of magazines, papers, and sample copies of religious periodicals, with catalogues and circulars from publishing houses; an appeal to help a poor church in Nebraska whose place of worship had been struck by lightning; a letter from a sister in Missouri, asking for advice about a divorce case; one from a tinware man in Arkansas, who inquired about the town with a view of locating; and one that bore the mark of the Association, which informed him, over the signature of the Secretary, that he had been unanimously called to take charge of the new work. Cameron carried the letter, in triumph, to the kitchen. "Well," said the little woman; "didn't I tell you that one preacher would have a hand in whatever work was started here? Of course you'll accept?" "I don't know," Cameron answered. "We must think about it." A day later he called for a consultation with Elder Wicks, and Uncle Bobbie said: