Mr. and Mrs. J. Patterson Bing, however, in their luxurious apartment at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, knew little of these conditions until Mr. Bing came up late in March for a talk with the mill superintendent. Many of the sick and poor suffered extreme privation. Father O'Neil and the Reverend Otis Singleton of the Congregational Church went among the people, ministering to the sick, of whom there were very many, and giving counsel to men and women who were unaccustomed to prosperity and ill-qualified wisely to enjoy it. One day, Father O'Neil saw the Widow Moran coming into town with a great bundle of fagots on her back. "This looks a little like the old country," he remarked. She stopped and swung her fagots to the ground and announced: "It do that an' may God help us! It's hard times, Father. In spite o' all the money, it's hard times. It looks like there wasn't enough to go 'round--the ships be takin' so many things to the old country." "How is my beloved Shepherd?" the good Father asked. "Mother o' God! The house is that cold, he's been layin' abed for a week an' Judge Crooker has been away on the circuit." "Too bad!" said the priest. "I've been so busy with the sick and the dying and the dead I have hardly had time to think of you." Against her protest, he picked up the fagots and carried them on his own back to her kitchen. He found the Shepherd in a sweater sitting up in bed and knitting socks. "How is my dear boy?" the good Father asked. "Very sad," said the Shepherd. "I want to do something to help and my legs are useless." "Courage!" Mr. Bloggs seemed to shout from his shelf at the window-side and just then he assumed a most valiant and determined look as he added: "Forward! march!" Father O'Neil did what he could to help in that moment of peril by saying: "Cheer up, boy. I'm going out to Dan Mullin's this afternoon and I'll make him bring you a big load of wood. I'll have you back at your work to-morrow. The spring will be coming soon and your flock will be back in the garden."