“That’s fine! I knew you’d be glad to help. The florists are such robbers at Christmas.” She scribbled a memorandum of her needs on an envelope and left them. Mills stood with his hand resting on the Mills pew for a last glance at the transept window. The church, which had survived all the changes compelled by the growth of the city, was to Mills less of a holy place than a monument to the past. His grandfather and father had been buried from the church; here he had been married, and here Shepherd and Leila had been baptized. Leila would want a church wedding.... His thoughts transcribed a swift circle; then, remembering that the rector was waiting, he followed him into the vestry. “Can’t you come in for a talk?” asked Lindley after Mills had expressed his gratification that the window had been repaired so successfully. “No; I see there are people waiting for you.” Mills glanced at a row of men and women of all ages--a discouraged-looking company ranged along the wall outside the study door. One woman with a shawl over her head coughed hideously as she tried to quiet a dirty child. “These people want advice or other help? I suppose there’s no end to your work.” “It’s my business to help them,” the rector replied. “They’re all strangers--I never saw any of them before. I rather like that--their sense of the church standing ready to help them.” “If they ask for money, what do you do?” asked Mills practically. “Is there a fund?” “Well, I have a contingency fund--yes. Being here in the business district, I have constant calls that I don’t feel like turning over to the charity society. I deal with them right here the best I can. I make mistakes, of course.” “How much have you in hand now?” Mills asked bluntly. The bedraggled child had begun to whimper, and the mother, in hoarse whispers, was attempting to silence it. “Well, I did have about four dollars,” laughed Lindley, “but Mrs. Torrence handed me a hundred this morning.” “I’ll send you a check for a thousand for these emergency cases. When it gets low again, let me know.” “That’s fine, Mills! I can cheer a good many souls with a thousand dollars. This is generous of you, indeed!” “Oh--Lindley!” Mills had reached the street door when he paused and retraced his steps. “Just a word--sometime ago in my office I talked to you in a way I’ve regretted. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite--quite just, to you and the church--to organized religion. I realize, of course, that the church----” “The church,” said Lindley smilingly, “the church isn’t these walls; it’s here!” He tapped his breast lightly. “It’s in your heart and mine.” “That really simplifies the whole thing!” Mills replied, and with a little laugh he went on to his office.