rong
relief. Wesley was so wise and good. Wesley would know just what to
say to this prying woman.

"What are you and Miss Daggett talking about so earnestly?" asked the
minister.

When informed of the question under discussion, he frowned
thoughtfully.

"My dear Miss Daggett," he said, "if you will fetch me the dinner
bell from Mrs. Whittle's kitchen, I shall be happy to answer your
question and others like it which have reached me from time to time
concerning this unhappy affair."

"Mis' Deacon Whittle's dinner bell?" gasped Lois Daggett. "What's
that got t' do with--"

"Bring it to me, and you'll see," smiled the minister imperturbably.

"What are you going to do, Wesley?" whispered Fanny.

He gazed gravely down into her lovely eyes.

_"Dearest,"_ he whispered back, "trust me! It is time we laid this
uneasy ghost; don't you think so?"

By now the large room was well filled with men, women and children.
The ice cream was being passed around when suddenly the clanging
sound of a dinner bell, vigorously operated by Joe Whittle, arrested
attention.

"The minister's got something to say! The minister's got something to
say!" shouted the boy.

Wesley Elliot, standing apart, lifted his hand in token of silence,
then he spoke:

"I have taken this somewhat unusual method of asking your attention
to a matter which has for many years past enlisted your sympathies,"
he began: "I refer to the Bolton affair."

The sound of breath sharply indrawn and the stir of many feet died
into profound silence as the minister went on, slowly and with
frequent pauses:

"Most of you are already familiar with the sordid details. It is not
necessary for me to go back to the day, now nearly nineteen years
ago, when many of you found yourselves unexpectedly impoverished
because the man you trusted had defaulted.... There was much
suffering in Brookville that winter, and since.... When I came to
this parish I found it--sick. Because of the crime of Andrew Bolton?
No. I repeat the word with emphasis: _No!_ Brookville was sick,
despondent, dull, gloomy and impoverished--not because of Andrew
Bolton's crime; but because Brookville had never forgiven Andrew
Bolton.... Hate is the one destructive element in the universe; did
you know that, friends? It is impossible for a man or woman who hates
another to prosper.... And I'll tell you why this is--why it must be
true: God is love--the opposite of hate. Hence All Power is enlisted
on