"That," said Dick, "is the greatest danger, but I believe it would be met in this way: You remember I said that the time of the inmates must be given wholly to the institution. The men could be kept busy at the housework, scrubbing and cleaning when not in the yard. Then too, they could be hired out to do odd jobs of rough work for the citizens; the wages all to go to the institution. Thus, if every man was kept busy eight hours each day, and received only his food and a place to sleep, there would be no temptation to remain longer than necessary. The institution would also act as an employment agency, and when a man was offered work of any kind he would no longer be permitted to remain in the home. Much of this would necessarily be left to the discretion of the managers and directors." This question seemed to bring the matter to a close as far as Dick was concerned, and after asking if there was anything more, and again calling attention to the fact that the greatest obstacle in the way was a suitable building, he thanked them for their attention and took his seat. Then followed a warm discussion. Several spoke enthusiastically in favor of the scheme. One or two thought it very good, but feared it would be impossible because of the building needed. A few offered amendments to the plan. Finally a committee was appointed to see if a suitable building could be secured, and the meeting was adjourned. At once the young people crowded about Dick, shaking his hand, thanking him, asking questions, making suggestions, with now and then a happy laugh or jest. Much to Charlie's delight, Dick, for the time being, forgot himself and talked and laughed and prophesied with the rest about _our_ institution and the things we would do. But in the midst of it all, his manner suddenly changed, and making his way quickly to Charlie's side he whispered, "Good-night, old man, I must go." "So soon?" asked his friend in a tone of surprise. "Yes," replied Dick hurriedly, "I must." And Charlie was left wondering at the pain in his face, which a moment before had been so bright, for he did not know that Dick had heard Frank Goodrich saying to his sister, "Come, we must go home. We can't afford to associate with that tramp," and that he had seen Amy leaving the room on her brother's arm, without even acknowledging his presence by so much as a glance. The next morning bright and early, Deacon Wickham might have been seen knocking at the door of the parsonage. "Why, good morning, Brother," cried Cameron, throwing wide the door and extending his hand. "What good fortune brought you out so early? Come in. Come in."