"Their mites!" thought Hubert, with something of his old-time irony. He was freshly instructed on the subject of money, and knew well the story of the widows' mites. "If Mrs. Greenman herself had given the ninety dollars, I should think she was beginning to feel a tinge of gratitude for something." Winifred had fastened her brown eyes musingly upon the President. She was wondering if money might express thanks, and, if so, how much would appropriately suggest her own gratitude to God for His "unspeakable gift." "No gift would be large enough," she thought, and then the familiar lines came to her mind: "Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all." "How true that is," she thought. "But I suppose it is nice to give some token, even though one cannot adequately express one's thanks." There were some other reports and then the leading alto from the choir sang: "There is a green hill far away." "I am sure we are all glad," said the President, "to have with us Mr. Hugh Carew from China, who has labored for years among the heathen there. We shall be pleased to hear him tell us something of his work." And Mr. Hugh Carew began. He was a man uninteresting to look upon, save that his face wore a certain indefinable expression of a man who has been a stranger in many places; a man habituated to loneliness and to silence. But he was evidently a man also accustomed to speak, for he addressed his audience with easy grace. "The pleasure is mine," he said, "in being able to present to your interest and sympathy the dearest object of the heart of God." Hubert started to hear the man's work, as he thought, thus spoken of. Mr. Carew went on: "Of course I refer not to my simple share in it, but to God's great work of salvation in all lands." "Ah, that is what he means," thought Hubert, and repeated to himself--"the dearest object of God's heart!" "You may question my definition of that work," said Mr. Carew, "but a moment's reflection will convince you that it is true. We may measure the object's value by the price expended for it. For what other than the dearest object would God have been willing to give His most priceless treasure--the Son of His love? You will pardon my giving some attention to the fundamental facts of our common salvation before speaking specifically of the work in which I have had a part for some years in China. My apology is this: that wherever the returned missionary goes, even among God's people, he finds himself obliged to defend his work to some who regard it as an impractical and self-devised effort at doing good, rather than the simple carrying out of the expressed will of God. We have to go back to first principles and inquire afresh: '_What is the will of God_?'" "That sounds sensible," thought Hubert, who loved to hear vital principles discussed.