"There appears to be no one in sight," said the Superintendent. "I have
a number of applications here," picking up a good-sized bundle of neatly
folded papers, "but they are hardly the kind to suit conditions at
Windermere. Numbers of them feel themselves specially called of God
to do mission work in large centres of population. Others are chiefly
anxious about the question of support. One man would like to be in touch
with a daily train service, as he feels it necessary to keep in touch
with the world by means of the daily newspaper. A number are engaged who
want to be married. Here's Mr. Brown, too fat. No move in him. Here's
McKay--good man, earnest, but not adaptable, like Finlayson; won't do.
Here's Garton--fine fellow, would do well, but hardly strong enough. So
what are you to do? I have gone over the whole list of available men and
I cannot find one suitable for Windermere."

In this the Assembly's Convener could give him no help. Indeed, from few
did the Superintendent receive assistance in the securing of men for his
far outposts.

Assistance came to him from an unexpected quarter. He was to meet the
Assembly's Convener and some members of the Committee that evening at
Professor Macdougall's for tea. The Superintendent's mind could not be
kept long away from the work that was his very life, and at the table
the conversation turned to the question of the chronic difficulty of
securing men for frontier work, which had become acute in the case of
Windermere. Margaret, who had been invited to assist Mrs. Macdougall in
the dispensing of her hospitality, was at once on the alert. Why could
not Dick be sent? If only that Presbytery difficulty could be got over
he might go. That he would be suited for the work she was well assured,
and equally certain was she that it would be good for him.

"It would save him," Margaret said to herself with a sharp sting at
her heart, for she had to confess sadly that Dick had come to the point
where he needed saving. She had learned from Iola the whole miserable
story of Barney's visit, of his terrible indictment of his brother and
the final break between them, but she had seen little of him during the
past six months. From that terrible night Dick had gone down in physical
and in moral health. Again and again he had written Barney, but there
had been no reply. Hungrily he had come to Margaret for word of his
brother, hopeful of reconciliation. But of late he had given up hope
an