"With pleasure-look," said Miss Murray, without the slightest hesitation throwing open the door and disclosing a small, scrupulously clean room from which the sun's glare was shut out by dark-blue shades. The few pieces of furniture were of pine, stained blue; a whiteand-blue cotton rug covered the center of the bare floor,-its mate was thrown over a low couch, a curtain of blue-and-white chintz concealed one corner of the room. A table covered with books, some shelves filled with more books, and books neatly piled on every spare inch of floor, completed the furniture, with the exception of a glass lamp, which, with a dark-blue shade, stood on the table by the couch.

"My books would bring next to nothing, so I have kept them-so far," said the girl, simply.

The curate looked from this remarkable East Side "Haus" to its evolver. He saw a very firm, though softly rounded chin; a small mouth, with a rather sad droop at the corner; a flushed, tired, lovely face; the large gray eyes with their straightforward look; brown hair simply twisted in one heavy braid about the small head.

"May I try to see if I cannot learn of something more suitable for you?" asked the curate, whose easy, resourceful manner seemed to have deserted him.

"Why is n't this suitable? I'm poor, and this is cheap-and clean," she added.

"It 's that, beyond question; and I can now understand the miracle of Mrs. Muhlhauser's room." It was Miss Murray's turn to blush.

After returning to listen patiently for half an hour to the sick woman's complaints, the curate once more retraced his steps through the district. His own problems seemed uncommonly heavy; the weather was very warm even for late spring: the teeming East Side all but engulfed him.

Hello, Mr. Elkins," greeted him on all sides from small boys belonging to the choir, Trade School, Junior Battalion, and other organizations of St. Pendragon's; for the parish was very large, and the senior curate was highly popular in all its varied departments.

On his study-table he found an invitation from Miss Masters to spend the com

ing Sunday at their cottage at Quogue, and saying that the auto would call for him when it took her father down Friday. afternoon.

Aside from the obvious reasons why this was a very attractive prospect, the sea air would tone him up, his absence would give Wilmer a little practice in preaching. to the morning congregation, Wallis could try his hand on the dramatic problem, and they could divide up the rest of his work between them all, crowded full as their own hands were with their own special duties.

He therefore wrote a cordial acceptance, and then set himself to finish the copy for which the printing class of the Trade School was clamoring for the next issue of the "Parish Record." He glanced over the first part of his article on the boys' Vaudeville Show, and hastily added:

One of the important features of the show is the expert tumbling; the clown work is something extra fine also-do not miss it. The whole performance reaches the top-notch of vaudeville.

We want you all to come-mothers, fathers, boys, young men, and don't forget the babies. And you young girls who like to dance, we want you, too. After the show the Battalion band will furnish first-rate music for dancing. Come one, come all, and give us a good send-off.

By the time he had finished his share of the "Record's" table of contents, including two obituary notices of old and faithful East Side adherents of the parish, a leader on the coming vacation season, some book comments intended for the older girls of the "Friendly," and a "write-up" of the Junior Battalion's Minstrel Show, which had taken place the preceding month, the afternoon had gone.

The evening was to be an unusually crowded one, and as he was to leave the following afternoon, and every instant of the morning would be taken up, the curate hastily corralled his associates just before dinner, and in quick, decisive sentences arranged for his two days of absence.

"Jim, you preach in the morning, and Frank at night. Let Matthews take the talk to the Senior Sunday-school, and give Johnson a chance at the Juniors, -there were only six hundred last Sunday. We

can't have the attendance fall off in summer this way. Be sure they get the right Gospel for the day. Have a lookout for Mrs. Scanlon; send her to Bellevue, if necessary. Don't forget the special notice for the Vaudeville Show. The boys have been working hard, and every one has got to come-work up a rouser for them at morning service-we want the up-town people as much as the East Side. Explain to the Battalion that I am out of town, and could n't be on hand for the banner presentation-you get up a short speech for them, Billy. Keep things hustling. And, by the way, Jim, I 'm looking after a case in your district-Mrs. Muhlhauser; she's sick. The call came when you were out. I'll keep on with it now I 've begun.”

THE delightful seventy-mile ride to Quogue freshened up the senior curate, as he had anticipated; even the uninteresting country for the first ten miles, from Long Island City to Jamaica, flew by unnoticed in the exhilaration of the rushing motion. From Jamaica, down the fine Merrick Road, down into Babylon, with Fire Island Light standing out across the across the water; past Islip, with its shaded lanes leading down to the Great South Bay; through Oakland, with its great estates; past the South Side Club; the right-hand turn through Westhampton, with glimpse of the clear ocean, and they came with a final dash into the breezy stretches of old Quogue.

a

At a corner they found Miss Masters waiting for them in her little basket cart. "Jump in, Anne," called her father; "there's plenty of time for a run over to the beach before dinner."

"Go home, Jimmy," said Miss Masters, and the small Shetland trotted off to his stable like a big, brown dog.

How well she looked! The plain, white linen set off her rounded figure to perfection. Her firm young arms were not yet tanned by the summer sun; her high color was part of the sunlight and the rushing wind and the blue sea, with its foaming surf.

Two minutes brought them to the end of the road. They got out and walked down the board walk to the beach. The solitariness of the great stretch of sand along the Long Island, south shore, made

more

vaster by its unbroken flatness, save for the dunes, emphasized all the strongly to Lawrence Elkins his rushing, hurrying life. Two years was about all one could stand of it; it was time he left St. Pendragon's.

The Masters cottage, a large yellow house with white trimmings, stood hospitably open to receive them. How delightfully quiet was his room! How delicious the sense of rest, the absence of rush!

The house party was large, and the two days brought little opportunity for seeing Miss Masters alone; but when he left by an early train on Monday morning, he was not in any doubt as to her probable answer if he decided to ask her the question which for some time he had supposed he was going to ask.

Some way, however, he did not feel so sure of doing so.

That journey up to town was almost the first uninterrupted time he had had to himself for months. The pace was really too rapid at St. Pendragon's. Enthusiastic as they all were, they rushed matters too much. Could it be that there was such a thing as too many organizations? Hastily pushing aside these heretical fancies, the curate set himself to think over his own course. He must give an answer to these calls. Which one should be Yes? While he had not much money, he was young and strong, with no one dependent upon him, and his choice need not therefore be influenced by the size of the salary. There was no reason why he should not choose Maine, if he so wished-Maine, where they probably would find it much harder to get a trained man than would the near-by parish. But Miss Mastersinstantly the situation became complex.

His mind wandered for a moment. How that girl had looked straight at him. as though he had been a post! That must be the reason he could not get her out of his mind. Experience had not led the curates of St. Pendragon's to expect to be looked at like posts. Theirs had been a flowery way of smiles universal, of conscious blushes, of admiring glances, of deferring manners, on the part of young males. Here was one who had made him feel distinctly ill at ease. And her quiet, self-possessed way, now that he had time to recall it, that spoke of contact with the

fe

world, she must be well educated, and with cultivated tastes, -with what perfect dignity she had received him in her tenement-house room!

Wrenching his mind back from these irrelevant wanderings, he returned to his problems.

When Lawrence Elkins's mind was made up, it was made up. He had not lived twenty-eight years in this world. without developing some very marked traits. Decision was one of them. When he left the train he knew what he was going to do, and he made his way to the parish house as quickly as the confused mass of traffic which poured in over the ferry would let him do it.

But firm as he was, he was no match for St. Pendragon's, who at once asserted the rightful precedence of her affairs over everything else. He found his study-table covered with letters, reports, and notices left there for him to pass on. Among them was a memorandum from the deaconess in charge of the Monday night circle of the "Friendly," giving him the question box slips to be answered that night. He glanced them over.

1. What is the unpardonable sin? 2. Do you believe in Sunday opening? 3. Is there such a thing as hell-or do we make our own hell?

was taking place in the large receptionhall, every other room in the building being at the time occupied.

IT was late that night when the senior curate finally had a free moment to talk with his colleagues. His face wore sheepish expression quite foreign to his ordinary frank, determined look.

"Boys," he began apologetically, "I guess I've got to go to Maine."

Surprise and expostulation followed. 'Do you mind telling your reasons, Larry?" asked Mr. Wallis.

"Well, Jim, they need a worker there, and I'm the worker they think they need." "But they need a worker in Ferristown, too, and it's such a big opening. Don't be too hasty, old man," came from the

others.

"Me for Maine," said the curate, with finality.

FOLLOWING his letter of acceptance, came two hurried weeks of preparations, -explanatory letters (an exceptionally cordial, friendly one to Quogue), last visits,-and winding up the threads of his curacy generally, for Elkins was to begin his new work at once.

He found time to run down a day or so after his return from Long Island to see how Mrs. Muhlhauser was doing, and to

5. What is death? Do we feel and hear then?

The curate gave a groan, but he had no time to waste on his feelings. These young women were among the most thoughtful of the entire Girls' Friendly Society. Their questions must be treated with respect, and he must get down to work, for he would have to look up material for his replies. He took down the necessary books, and began to read. On the floor just above him the Fife and Drum Corps were conscientiously practising for the Decoration Day parade; on the floor just below him, the assistant organist was practising equally conscientiously in the Sunday-school chapel; just outside his door, to the encouraging strains of "I love to sit and listen to the brassband play," a rehearsal of some of the coming vaudeville "expert tumbling acts"

getting some position as companion or secretary.

At first sight, he thought he must have mistaken the room. It was a cool vision of blue and white, in the midst of which lay the sick woman, who exclaimed eagerly:

"Come hierein, Misder Elgins. You ain't seen how nice looks my house. All dies I get off Miss Murray; she give me all her dings when she goes avay."

"Miss Murray gone!"

'Ach, ja; last Sunday night she goes; a telegram she gets."

"A telegram?"

"Ja; it say her grandmutter is sick, and she should come right avay home. I guess to New Jersey she goes, or Staten Island, maybe. She ask der janitor would he pack up her books, und she writes after where he should send dem. All her udder dings she give to me. She go right avay

off."

"Then she is not coming back?"

"No, I don't dink. I guess she get pretty tired tryin' find somedings to do, und she dells me after you was here dat dime she guess she don't try no more to get in no chorus. She say she maybe teaches. I guess she seen how she don't know how to make like dem people wants."

"Well, tell her good-by for me if you hear from her. I'll see you again before I go," said the curate, an unaccountable sense of disappointment weighing him. down as he gave his old friend a hearty hand-shake, and responded to her fervent regrets at his leaving the parish. One of Lawrence Elkins's nicest ways was his way with the poor.

But on his farewell visit no word had yet come from Miss Murray.

WITH one glimpse of his new work, we will leave the senior curate, whose St. Pendragon's history is now told..

Naturally, on his arrival at Rock Harbor, he had plunged at once into those details of systematic organization so dear to the heart of the experienced worker, and, a few days later, having spent an absorbingly interesting morning in the important duty of selecting the exact site of the parish house, which had been one of the prominent conditions of his coming to St. Michael's, he was beginning his afternoon round of calls by spending an hour with a

delightful old lady, type of the old school aristocracy, her shining hair softly framing her high-bred face in silver rolls. The delicate pink ribbons on the bit of lace which covered her head matched in hue the girlish color in her cheeks. On her soft little hands, resting among the folds of rich black silk, was the gleam of diamonds.

The house was filled with the evidences of a cultivated taste-fine old pieces of Colonial furniture, rare bits of George the Fourth silver, and everywhere flowers.

"Yes," she was saying, "one of these attacks will carry me off some day, I expect, -all my people have had them,-but my naughty, independent little girl will be with me now. She 's just come home."

"Your grandchild?" asked Mr. Elkins, who was fond of children.

"Yes, she did n't know how her old grandmother needed her. Ah, come in, Ellie; you 're just in time to meet our new

rector."

Feelings of love and pride lighted up the beautiful old face, feelings of amusement and confusion flushed the beautiful young face, but complicated beyond description were the feelings which, as he turned and looked straight into the gray eyes of the girl who stood in the rose-hung porch behind him, struggled vainly for expression on the astounded face of the late senior curate of St. Pendragon's.