irst the President expressed the thanks
of those who had listened to the lecture, and hoped all had been stirred
to greater zeal and effort for the future in helping so good a cause.
She suggested that the mite-boxes should be redistributed.

"'Mite-boxes!'" thought Hubert and squirmed in his seat impatiently.
Then an inward voice reproved him for his contempt of small things. He
thought of the poor that might deposit from time to time small coins that
meant much from their slender incomes. Yes, "mites" were all right, if
they were like the "widow's," and not the meager drippings from a selfish
superfluity. But suppose _he_ take a mite-box? How many of them would
be required to hold the hoarded, unnecessary, unused wealth at his
command? He could not insult the Lord and the "dearest object of His
heart" by an offering unworthy of his resources.

There was a pleasant buzz of voices at the close of the meeting and
nobody seemed to be going. Doctor Schoolman was shaking hands with Mr.
Carew. Doors were opened into the parlor and there was the fragrant odor
of a collation prepared. For the benevolences of New Laodicea were
nothing like certain reluctant pumps that will give nothing until they
have been given to. To whet an interest in such meetings as this, and to
cajole small sums from unwilling purses, it was found necessary to make a
gastronomic appeal.

Hubert and Winifred moved forward to personally express to the lecturer
their appreciation of his words. Doctor Schoolman greeted them warmly
and introduced them to him. Mr. Carew had noticed the two among his
hearers, and looked at them now with an unconsciously appealing glance.
His face was still flushed and the hand Hubert took was hot.

"You are not well," said the latter involuntarily.

"No," said Mr. Carew, rather absently, "I suppose not."

"I should not think this work you are doing would tend to recovery?"

"No, perhaps not," said the missionary.

Hubert looked at him inquiringly. "Then why do you do it?" he wished to
ask, but refrained.

Mr. Carew answered his questioning look.

"I am not to be pitied," he said with a smile, "even if I should not
recover as I hope to do. Some men are sick and die for pure folly's
sake, or for business. They are to be pitied. But if it were given a
man to be spent for Christ's sake--to know some faint shadow of suffering
for the same cause for which _He_ suffered as we never may--that man is
happy, I t