“My last word to you,” rang out the powerful voice across the valley, “shall be in favor of a pure church. Ask on the street, for the worst libertines and adulterers in town, the wreckers of happy homes, the men whose social life is a stench,--and members of this church, protected by their wealth, will be pointed out to you. Search for the employers most unjust to their workmen, and you will find them sheltered by this church. My parting advice is, to purify your church,--to drive out of it the thieves and adulterers, or to cease calling it a church of Christ.” The lady returned with a basket of arbutus, but there was no song on her lips, and the fire had burned out of the black eyes. “John,” she said, “drive me to the home of the Widow Fordyce. She is sick and may be glad of these flowers.” To an acquaintance, that evening, the coachman said:--“If you want to hear Reverend Ralph Cutter’s farewell and the greatest sermon ever preached in Papyrus, go to the First Church to-morrow.” The news spread rapidly, and Ralph Cutter was surprised when he met a congregation for which the building could not furnish standing-room. But even those in the street heard him. CHAPTER IV. Conditions improved steadily with the Wycliffs. Mrs. Wycliff and Robert were both gaining slowly, but surely. From various sources, some of them unexpected, came sufficient income to pay all bills promptly when due. Wycliff had dabbled in literature since boyhood, and his income from this source, though small, was helpful. While he was still at home, helping about the house, and frequently consulted by Hugh Maxwell, and by those whose political fortunes were linked with his, a stranger called. He was a keen-looking man, who wasted no time in ceremony. “John Wycliff, I believe?” “Yes, sir.” “I am Wilfrid Terry, of the Elmfield _Star_. We are not satisfied with our sales in Papyrus. We sell only a thousand papers here, whereas we ought to sell fifteen hundred. We are told that you have had experience in newspaper work, and a gentleman who is acquainted with your former work, thinks you could bring our sales in Papyrus up to what they ought to be.” “I don’t believe that I could work for you.” “Indeed, and why not?” “As I have learned it, good journalism is no respecter of persons. I could not, or rather I would not, work under your system, which tells the truth about the poor man, but conceals the truth about the rich man.” “I don’t understand you.”