self
high above the common level. He still was lean and thin, still a little
stooping. The habits of his life would account for that; he was too
busy saving other men's souls to give much thought to the preservation
of his own body.

Even in a small and humdrum country parish, the souls of men need
careful shepherding; every now and then there comes a petty crisis when
they confess to a desire for outside guidance, and it was in such
crises that Scott Brenton found his opportunity. His sermons, albeit a
trifle immature, were really clever. None the less, they dwindled into
insignificance beside the practical, personal help he gave to his
parishioners, a help that came without the asking, whether the crisis
were a dying cow, a small son's broken arm, or a fire in a granary just
after the final harvest. Whatever happened in the parish, for good or
ill, Scott Brenton always appeared upon the scene. At the very first,
he had come of his own accord. Later, if his arrival delayed itself for
a dozen minutes, he was sent for in hot haste. In every crisis, he was
ready with practical advice; but he worked with both hands, the while
he gave it.

Under such conditions, how he wrote his sermons was a question
unanswerable by any one but Catia who trimmed the lamps, next morning.
To Catia's great disgust, despite the scale of living due to his
profession, Brenton had taken it quietly for granted that, for the
present, they would keep no maid. His salary was small; he must have
something saved to give away in cases of emergency. Catia and he were
strong, and the rectory was small. Of course, Catia could have a little
girl to come in at odd hours. What other help she needed, he would give
her out of his scanty leisure. And Catia, who had dreamed of a
luxurious idleness unknown to most women in that community of simple
habits, was forced to tie on a wide pinafore and roll up her sleeves
above a steaming dishpan. She did it all, however, with an air of
patient martyrdom which was not lost upon her husband; while, upon the
rare occasions when they entertained a clerical guest, she added an
extra note of unaccustomed abnegation which was intended to impress
upon the guest that she was the hapless victim of a fall from better
days. The parish, in so far as she was able, she disdained completely.
At the infrequent times that she was driven into close quarters with
it, she made up for her unpopularity among the vestrymen by taking it
out