"Three months would finish it. The job will be swarming with men." "Good, and we hope that Ryan's cement will hold the church together. I'm reminded of another Romanist friend who was approached for a similar Protestant object. He wouldn't help to build the new church but he did contribute toward tearing down the old one. And now," here this good and kindly man paused and looked affectionately at the two young people beside him, "it's my turn to make a suggestion." Elsie glanced up with uncomfortable intelligence. "I'd like the first wedding in the new church to be yours if possible. And if you like, I'll officiate myself." He patted the girl's hand softly. "That's dear of you," she stammered, "but--it's a long way off." The bishop looked up sharply and saw that Belding's eyes were fixed on Fisette's cottage. "By the way, how's my friend Mr. Clark?" he put in hastily. Belding smiled, "Working too hard, as usual." "And working every one else, especially you. Well, I assume that's his way. I'd like you to tell him that we're building a new church because he did not seem to care for the other one." "Does that fall within the office of an engineer?" said Belding doubtfully. "Unquestionably. Your profession does many different things by many different methods. By the way, I hear we are to have iron works in St. Marys." "Yes, thanks to Fisette." "It's some years since Mr. Clark told me he had reason to believe there was iron in the district. Now I hope that this prophet will have honor in his own country." A few minutes later the young people rose to go. The bishop followed them to the gate, and Elsie felt the benediction of his kiss on her forehead. He watched them from his veranda till, with something of a sigh, he collected the manuscript at his feet, put it away and turned to next Sunday's sermon. He looked at this thoughtfully, then walking slowly into his study laid it also away. His face was suddenly careworn. He felt unduly oppressed by the burdens of his office, and there came back on him, as it often did, like a flood, the consciousness that it was for him by personal effort to raise half the money needed to pay his forty missionaries. Should he fail, they went without. Constantly aware of their simple faith, he knew also that they were poorly fed and lacked any provision for old age. Involuntarily he began to compare their lot with that of the magnetic Clark, and was confronted with an eternal problem. Why should faith and sacrificial loyalty fare so much more poorly than the mechanical and constructive nature? Clark had, apparently, the world at his feet, but what comfort and security was there for brave and spiritual souls, and for what baffling reason were they robbed of present reward?