I never will be a trusted counselor of
anybody, and must always be seeking a counselor for myself."

"I always hate a man who can keep a secret," said Father Fanning. "I
always believe that the fellow who can keep a secret is the fellow you
have to watch. You never know what he is thinking about, so nobody
ever is sure of him. Don't be ashamed now of not being able to keep a
secret, and don't worry yourself by keeping this one. Out with it."

"Well, it is about the church," said Father Ryan.

And he told his story.

"Well, of all the strange characters I ever met," said Father Fanning,
"you certainly are the worst, Ryan. Here you are in a box about that
thousand dollars and yet this morning you gave away your own share of
the collection, besides booming the Seminary. Why man, the Seminary
ought not ask anything from you, in your present condition. But there
is no use trying to pound sense into you. What are you going to do
about this? It is too much money for Barry and myself to take care of.
Bless your heart, I don't think he has fifty dollars to his name and I
wouldn't like to tell you the state of my finances. We have to think
out some way. Maybe Barry can see the Bishop."

"Well, we'll have to stop thinking about it," said Father Ryan. "I
might just as well settle down where I am. I certainly will not get
very much of a promotion now. By the way, did you notice the big man,
covered with mud, in the church?"

"No," said Father Fanning, "I did not notice him. Who was he? What
about him?"

"He was a stranger," said Father Ryan, "and was very pleasant. He is a
prospector from New York. He has been up in the mountains and away
from church for the last three months. He must have found something up
there, because he is going on to New York to meet his backers; at
least, that is what I judged from his talk. He is driving over to
Caanan to-day to catch the fast train."

"I wonder if he put anything in the collection?" said Father Fanning.

"No, he did not," answered the pastor, "but he gave it to me afterward
and told me to put it in. By the way, here it is."

He pulled the note out of his pocket and laid it flat on the table.
The three men gasped for breath. It was a thousand dollars.

Father Fanning was the first to find words. "Great Scott, Ryan," he
said, "you ought to go out and thank God on your knees before the
altar. Here is the end of your trouble. Why the man must be a
millionaire."

Father Ryan's fa