It was out in the wildest, loneliest part of the beach that night that he heard the first hint of what had come to the soul of Courtland. Pat had come of Catholic ancestry. He had an inheritance of reverence for the unseen. He had never been troubled with doubts or sneers. He had let religion go by and shed it like a shower, but he respected it. Courtland spent much time in the vicinity of the factory and of Robert Burns's church during the next few weeks. He helped Burns a good deal, for the man had heavily taxed himself with the burdens of the poor about him. Courtland found ways to privately relieve necessity and put a poor soul now and then on his feet and able to face the world again by the loan of a few cents or dollars. It took so pitifully little to open the gate of heaven to some lives! Courtland with his keen intellect and fine perceptions was able sometimes to help the older man in his perplexities; and once, when Burns was greatly worried over a bill that was hanging fire during a prolonged session of congress, Courtland went down to Washington for a week-end and hunted up some of his father's Congressional friends. He told them a few facts concerning factories in general, and a certain model, white-marble, much be-vined factory in particular, that at least opened their eyes if it did not make much difference in the general outcome. But though the bill failed to pass that session, being skilfully side-tracked, Courtland had managed to stir up a bit of trouble for Uncle Ramsey Thomas that made him storm about his office wrathfully and wonder who that "darned little rat of a preacher" had helping him now! It was late in September that Pat, with a manner of studied indifference, told Courtland of a rumor that Tennelly was engaged to Gila Dare. It was the very next Sunday night that Tennelly turned up at Courtland's apartment after he and Pat had gone to the evening service, and followed them to the church. He dropped into a seat beside Pat, amazed to find him there. "You here!" he whispered, grasping Pat's hand with the old friendly grip. "Where's Court?" Pat grinned and nodded up toward the pulpit. Tennelly looked forward and for a minute did not comprehend. Then he saw Courtland sitting gravely in a pulpit chair by the little red-headed Scotch preacher. "What in thunder!" he growled, almost out loud. "What's the joke?" Pat's face was on the defensive at once, though it was plain he was enjoying Tennelly's perplexity. "Court's going to speak to-night!" It is probable Pat never enjoyed giving any information so much as that sentence in his life. "The deuce he is!" said Tennelly, out loud. "You're lying, man!" which, considering that the Scotchman was praying, was slightly out of place. Pat frowned. "Shut up, Nelly. Can't you see the game's called? I'm telling you straight. If you don't believe it wait and see."