t and competence, but not
at all an "institution." It was at once a home for the sick and a
training school of the Christian graces, where the distressed of body
and mind could be given the relief they needed--all of it given gladly,
in Christ's name.

Walter Drury was not unmindful of the care and skill which the hospital
staff lavished on him, though no more faithfully on him than on many an
unknown or unresponsive patient. But he was in a pitifully questioning
mood. The doctors had told him he could not expect to preach again. When
the district superintendent had come to visit him, he carried away with
him Walter Drury's request for retirement at the coming session of the
Annual Conference.

In his quiet moments--there were so many of them now--the broken man
counted up his years of service, all too few, as it seemed to him, and
lacking much of what they might have shown in outcomes for the church
and the kingdom. His Conference was one of the few which paid the full
annuity claim of its retired preachers, but even so he had not much to
look forward to. His twenty-five years in the active ranks meant that he
could count on twenty-five times $15 a year, $375, on which to live,
when he gave up his work.

Perhaps he could live on this, with what little he had been able to put
aside; at any rate he could be glad now that there was none but himself
to think about. But was it worth all he had put into his vocation? His
brother in Saint Louis, not remarkably successful in his business, had
been able at least to make some provision for his old age. He too might
have been a moderately successful business or professional man. Truly it
was more than the older preachers had, this Conference annuity, which
would keep him from actual want; so much, surely, had been gained by the
church's growing sense of responsibility for its veterans.

But had it really paid? Was all the gentle efficiency of the hospital,
and all the church's money which would come to him from the Conference
funds and the Board of Conference Claimants, enough to compensate him
for the long years when he had been spendthrift of all his powers for
the sake of his work?

He knew, of course, the answer to his questions; no one better. But he
was a broken-down preacher, old before his time; and knowing the answer
was not at all the same as _having_ the answer. So he had been brought
home from Hillcrest, mind-weary and much cast down. Nor did he regain
any of hi