il, he
stretched himself full length on the grass for a few moments, chatting
with his mates in friendly fashion. Then he went over to the roller
and assisted the engineer in "oiling up." Being a novice at the
business, he managed to get his hands black with oil, and smeared a
streak across one cheek, which, while it helped to obscure his
identity, did not add to his facial beauty. He was blissfully
unconscious of this. About three o'clock Bascom returned from his
office, just as Maxwell was dismounting from the wagon after bringing
a load. At first Bascom did not recognize the rector, but a second
glance brought the awful truth home to his subliminal self, and he
stopped and stared at Maxwell, stricken dumb. Maxwell politely touched
his hat, and smilingly remarked that it was a fine day. Bascom made no
reply at first.

[Illustration: "I CONSIDER IT A SHAME AND A DISGRACE TO THE PARISH TO
HAVE OUR RECTOR IN FILTHY CLOTHES, DRAWING STONE WITH A
LOT OF RUFFIANS"]

"Can it be possible that this is you, Mr. Maxwell?" he almost
whispered, at last.

"It is, to the best of my knowledge and belief."

"What in the name of heaven are you working with these men for, if I
may ask?"

"To earn sufficient money to pay my grocer's bill."

Bascom colored hotly, and sputtered:

"I consider it a shame and a disgrace to the parish to have our rector
in filthy clothes, drawing stone with a lot of ruffians."

Maxwell colored as hotly, and replied:

"They are not ruffians, sir; they are honest men, supporting their
families in a perfectly legitimate way, giving their labor
and"--significantly--"receiving their pay for it."

"And you, sir, are engaged to work for the parish, as a minister of
God."

"Unfortunately, I am not being paid by the parish; that is why I am
working here. Neither my wife nor myself is going to starve."

"You haven't any pride, sir!" Bascom fumed, his temper out of control.
"We have had many incompetent rectors, but this really surpasses
anything. We have never had anyone like you."

Maxwell paused again in his work, and, leaning on his shovel, looked
Bascom in the eye:

"By which you mean that you have never had anyone who was independent
enough to grip the situation in both hands and do exactly what he
thought best, independent of your dictation."

"I will not converse with you any more. You are insulting."

"As the corporation is paying me for my time, I prefer work to
conversation."

Bascom s