e I saw him."

"But this church," said Belding with a little lift in his voice, "is
going to be built without money. Peterson, the masonry contractor at
the works, will give the stone, and his masons will donate the labor.
Borthwick, another contractor, will give the lumber and his carpenters
will put it together. Windows--plain glass of course--and the various
fittings are all taken care of by different people, and there was just
one thing I found a little difficult, and now that's all right."

"And what was it?" The bishop was leaning forward, his large,
expressive eyes very bright.

"Cement, sir. No one seemed to have any to spare. Finally I went to
Ryan--I don't know whether he has met you."

"Yes, an excellent type--one of my own countrymen. I like Ryan, a
strong Romanist, isn't he?"

"Yes, but finally I ran him down and told him I wanted enough cement to
build a Protestant church."

"But---"

"But, listen! Ryan thought it over for a minute, then his eyes began
to twinkle and he pointed to his storehouse and said that if it would
cement the Protestant church together I might take the pile."

Elsie laughed, while the bishop relapsed into deep body-shaking mirth.

"Splendid! Fine chap that Ryan. He's from Maynooth and I'm from
Lurgan and who says the Irish don't hang together? So it's all
settled?"

"Yes, when can we start work?"

"At once if it's possible. How long will it take?"

"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'