ds had made upon him. Crazy or not, the man had hinted at
the possibility of an insincerity on his part, which made him restless.
He determined to question him and see if he really would develop a
streak of insanity that would justify him in getting rid of him for the
night.

"Brother Man," he said, using the term his guest had given him, "do you
think I am living to[sic] extravagantly to live as I do?"

"Yes, in these times and after such a sermon."

"What would you have me do?" Philip asked the question half seriously,
half amused at himself for asking advice from such a source.

"Do as you preach that others ought to."

Again that silence fell over the room. And again Philip felt the same
impression of power in the strange man's words.

The "Brother Man," as he wished to be called, bowed his head between his
hands again; and Mrs. Strong whispered to her husband: "Now it is
certainly worse than foolish to keep this up any longer. The man is
evidently insane. We cannot keep him here all night. He will certainly
do something terrible. Get rid of him, Philip. This may be a trick on
the part of the whiskey men."

Never in all his life had Philip been so puzzled to know what to do with
a human being. Here was one, the strangest he had ever met, who had come
into his house; it is true he had been invited, but once within he had
invited himself to stay all night, and then had accused his entertainer
of living too extravagantly and called him an insincere preacher. Add to
all this the singular fact that he had declared his name to be "Brother
Man," and that he spoke with a calmness that was the very incarnation of
peace, and Philip's wonder reached its limit.

In response to his wife's appeal Philip rose abruptly and went to the
front door; he opened it, and a whirl of snow danced in. The wind had
changed, and the moan of a coming heavy storm was in the air.

The moment that he opened the door his strange guest also rose, and
putting on his hat he said, as he moved slowly toward the hall, "I must
be going. I thank you for your hospitality, madam."

Philip stood holding the door partly open. He was perplexed to know just
what to do or say.

"Where will you stay to-night? Where is your home?"

"My home is with my friends," replied the man. He laid his hand on the
door, opened it, and had stepped one foot out on the porch, when Philip,
seized with an impulse, laid his hand on his arm, gently but strongly
pulled him