ut it was useless; and he was about to give up when he heard
Mrs. Betty's gentle voice inquiring from the next room:

"May I come in? Haven't you finished that wretched old missionary
sermon yet?"

"No, dear; but why aren't you asleep?"

"I have been anxious about you. You are worn out and you need your
rest. Now just let the heathen rage, and go to bed."

Maxwell made no reply, but picked at his manuscript aimlessly with his
pen. Betty looked into his face, and then the whole stress of the
situation pierced her; and sitting down by his side she dropped her
head on his shoulder and with one arm around his neck stroked his
cheek with her fingers. For a few moments neither of them spoke; and
then Maxwell said quietly:

"Betty, love, I am going to work."

"But Donny, you are one of the hardest working men in this town. What
do you mean?"

"Oh, I mean that I am going to find secular work, the work of a day
laborer, if necessary. Matters have come to a crisis, and I simply
cannot stand this sort of thing any longer. If I were alone I might
get along; but I have you, sweetheart, and----"

Maxwell stopped suddenly, and the brave little woman at his side
said:

"Yes, I know all about it, Donald, and I think you are fully justified
in doing anything you think best."

"And you wouldn't feel ashamed of me if I handled a shovel or dug in
the street?"

"I'd be the proudest woman in the town, Donny; you are just your fine
dear self, whatever you do; and if you have the courage to put your
pride in your pocket and work in overalls, that would make you all the
finer to me. Manual work would relieve the tension of your nerves. You
seem to be in fairly good physical condition. Don't you worry one bit
about me. I am going to wash some lace curtains for Mrs. Roscoe-Jones,
and that will keep me out of mischief. Now, if you will allow me, I am
going to tear up that sermon on foreign missions, and start a little
home mission of my own by sending you to bed."

The second morning after this ruthless destruction of Maxwell's
eloquent plea for the mission at Bankolulu, Danny Dolan drove up to
the tent-rectory at half-past six, and Maxwell emerged and jumped up
by Danny's side, dressed in a rather soiled suit of overalls: Danny
was a teamster, a good looking youth, and a devoted friend of
Maxwell's since the parson had taken care of him and his family
through an attack of malignant diphtheria. But while Danny was a most
loyal frie