ase it," answered Frank, with a quaint sad
smile. "I assure you on my honour, that Grace has nothing whatsoever
to do with my 'rushing out' just now, but simply the desire to do my
good works that they may be seen of men. I hate going out. I should
like to sit and read the whole afternoon: but I am afraid lest the
dissenters should say, 'He has not been to see so-and-so for the last
three days;' so off I go, and no credit to me."

Why had Frank dared, upon a month's acquaintance, to lay bare his own
heart thus to a man of no creed at all? Because, I suppose, amid all
differences, he had found one point of likeness between himself and
Thurnall; he had found that Tom at heart was a truly genuine man,
sincere and faithful to his own scheme of the universe.

How that man, through all his eventful life, had been enabled to

"Bate not a jot of heart or hope,
But steer right onward,"

was a problem which Frank longed curiously, and yet fearfully withal,
to solve. There were many qualities in him which Frank could not but
admire, and long to imitate; and, "Whence had they come?" was another
problem at which he looked, trembling as many a new thought crossed
him. He longed, too, to learn from Tom somewhat at least of that
savoir faire, that power of "becoming all things to all men," which
St. Paul had; and for want of which Frank had failed. He saw, too,
with surprise, that Tom had gained in one month more real insight into
the characters of his parishioners than he had done in twelve; and
besides all, there was the craving of the lonely heart for human
confidence and friendship. So it befell that Frank spoke out his
inmost thought that day, and thought no shame; and it befell also,
that Thurnall, when he heard it, said in his heart--

"What a noble, honest fellow you are, when you--"

But he answered enigmatically.

"Oh, I quite agree with you that Grace has nothing to do with it. I
only referred it to that source because I thought you would do so."

"You ought to be ashamed of your dishonesty, then."

"I know it; but my view of the case is, that you rush out after
dinner for the very same reason that the Yankee storekeeper
does--from--You'll forgive me if I say it?"

"Of course. You cannot speak too plainly to me."

"Conceit; the Yankee fancies himself such an important person, that
the commercial world will stand still unless he flies back to its help
after ten minutes' gobbling, with his month full of pork a