ars to me as if
you were pretty impatient--kind as if you thought you had prayed prayers
enough, and it was high time they were answered."

Theodore looked surprised and disturbed, and continued his walk up and
down the room for a few moments in silence; then he came over to the
arm-chair where she sat, and resting his hand on her arm, spoke low and
gently:

"You probe to the very depth, dear friend. Thank you for your
faithfulness. I see I must commence anew, and pray, 'Lord, I believe;
help thou mine unbelief.'"

* * * * *

Well, the Express train whizzed past half a dozen minor stations, and
halted at last at the place of Theodore's destination. Circumstances
favored him, and the business that brought him thither was promptly
dispatched. Then a consultation with his time-table and watch showed him
a full hour of unoccupied time. He cast about him for some way of
occupying it agreeably. Just across the street was a pleasant building,
and a pleasant sign, "General News Depot and Reading Room." Thither he
went. The collection of books was unusually large and choice, Theodore
selected a book of reference that he had long been desiring to see and
took a seat. Several gentlemen were present, engaged in reading.

Presently the quiet was interrupted by the entrance of a middle-aged
gentleman, to whom the courteous librarian immediately addressed
himself.

"Good-afternoon, Mr. Cranmer. Can I serve you to a book?"

"No, sir," responded the new-comer, promptly. "I don't patronize this
institution, you know, sir."

Theodore glanced up to see what sort of a personage this could be who
was so indifferent to his privileges. He looked the gentleman in every
sense, refined, cultivated and intellectual. At the same moment one of
the other readers addressed him.

"Why the mischief don't you, Cranmer? Have you read every book there is
in the world, and feel no need of further information?"

"Not by any manner of means; but I'm a temperance man myself."

"What on earth has that to do with it?"

And Theodore found himself wondering and listening intently for the
answer.

"A great deal in this establishment. The truth is, if we had no
drunkards we'd have no books."

"What's the meaning of your riddle, Cranmer?" queried an older and
graver gentleman, who had been intently poring over a ponderous volume.

"Don't you know how the thing is done?" said Cranmer, turning briskly
around toward the