In fact the two old fellows became joint treasurers of the church building fund. They took it upon themselves, too, to pass the contribution plates at service. The only friction Andy McCann and Steve Siebert were ever known to display thereafter was a mild rivalry as to the amount of money collected from the congregation seated on their particular sides of the house. It was suspected that each swelled his collection considerably on Sunday mornings so that his half of the house would make the best showing when the offering was counted! “Dad burn it!” muttered Bill Judson, “let ’em alone. That’s a mild matter for disagreement. They ain’t likely to pull no guns on each other over that.” Indeed Canyon Pass was on its good behavior that winter. The exigencies of the flood which had driven out a good deal of the worst element of the town gave the better people a chance to take hold of its government with a firmer hand—and a hand that Hunt and his associates were determined should not again lose its grip. Even Slickpenny Norris in time came to see that religious progress was not actually synonymous with bankruptcy. To the parson’s standard flocked many of those who had before been but lukewarm. Not least of his new helpers was the erstwhile cabaret singer. Nell Blossom proved her value in the work to be quite all that Hunt had hoped. This busy time, when Joe Hurley and Betty really were so wrapped up in each other that they could scarcely be expected to be of value to anybody but themselves, the parson found in Nell Blossom a willing and efficient aid. They were both earnest in the cause, and so earnest that it seemed they had little thought for extraneous matters. Yet on one occasion when they were looking over the blueprints of the proposed church edifice, Nell slipped an extra sheet of plans into sight from beneath those of the church. “Why, what is this, Ford?” she asked. “Oh, yes! I wanted to show you that, Nell. And get your approval.” “My approval?” “Er—yes. You see, I’ve bought the lot right next to the church site. Now, this cottage—er—— Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill work for it shipped in with the church stuff. The same gang that builds the church can run the house up. There’s the front elevation. Say, Nell, how do you like it?” “Why, it’s lovely!” she cried. “Do you think it’s nice enough for a parson’s wife to live in?” “Ford! Mr. Hunt! I——” “Better let the ‘Mr. Hunt’ stuff slide, Nell Blossom,” he said, getting hold of her hand. “Even a minister’s wife is supposed to call her husband by his first name—at least, in private.” “Oh, Ford!” “That’s better.” “But—but I am not fit to be a parson’s wife, Ford,” she cried, trembling. “Do you know, sometimes I’ve half believed I wasn’t fit to be a parson? But it’s my job and I’m going to do the best I can with it. And—I need your help, Nell Blossom.”