Samuel went back in great excitement to the Stedmans', to tell them of his good fortune. And the family sat about in a circle and listened to the recital in open-eyed amazement. It was a wonderful thing to have an adventurer like Samuel in one's house!

But the boy noticed that Sophie did not seem as much excited as he had anticipated. She sat with her head resting in her hands. And when the others had left the room—“Oh, Samuel,” she said. “I feel so badly to-day! I don't see how I'm going to go on.”

“Listen, Sophie,” he said quickly. “That's one of the first things I thought about—I can give you a chance now.”

“How do you mean?”

“I can get Dr. Vince to help you find some better work.”

“Did he say he would?” asked the child.

“No,” was the reply—“but he is so good to everyone. And all the rich people go to his church, you know. He said he wanted me to help him; so I shall find out things like that for him to do.”

And Samuel went on, pouring out his praises of the kind and gentle clergyman, and striving to interest Sophie by his pictures of the new world that was to open before her. “I'm going to see him again to-morrow,” he said. “Then you'll see.”

“Samuel,” announced the doctor when he called the next morning, “I have found a chance for you.” And Samuel's heart gave a great leap of joy.

It appeared that the sexton of St. Matthew's was growing old. They did not wish to change, but there must be some one to help him. The pay would not be high; but he would have a chance to work in the church, and to be near his benefactor. The tears of gratitude started into his eyes as he heard this wonderful piece of news.

“I'll see more of Miss Gladys!” the voice within him was whispering eagerly.

“Doctor,” he said after a pause, “I've some good news for you also.”

“What is it?” asked the other.

“It's a chance for you to help some one.”

“Oh!” said the doctor.

“It's little Sophie Stedman,” said Samuel; and he went on to tell how he had met the widow, and about her long struggle with starvation, and then of Sophie's experiences in the cotton mill.

“But what do you want me to do?” asked the other, with a troubled look.

“Why,” said Samuel, “we must save her. We must find her some work that will not kill her.”

“But, Samuel!” protested the other. “There are so many in her position—and how can I help it?”

“But, doctor! She can't stand it!”

“I know, my boy. It is a terrible thing to think of. Still, I can't undertake to find work for everyone.”

“But she will die!” cried the boy. “Truly, it is killing her! And, doctor, she has never had a chance in all her life! Only think—how would you feel if Ethel had to work in a cotton mill?”

There was a pause. “I honestly can't see—” began the bewildered clergyman.

“It will be quite easy for you to help her,” put in the boy; “because, you see, Mr. Wygant belongs to your church!”

“But what has that to do with it?”

“Why—it's Mr. Wygant's mill that she works in.”

“Yes,” said the doctor. “But—I—-”

“Surely,” exclaimed Samuel, “you don't mean that he wouldn't want to know about it!”

“Ahem!” said the other; and again there was a pause.

It was broken by Ethel, who had come in and was listening to the conversation. “Papa!” she exclaimed, “wouldn't Miss Gladys be the one to ask?”

Samuel gave a start. “The very thing!” he said.

And Dr. Vince, after pondering for a moment, admitted that it might be a good idea.

“You will come to church with me to-morrow,” said Ethel. “And if she is there we'll ask her.”

And so Samuel was on hand, trembling with excitement, and painfully conscious of his green and purple necktie. He sat in the Vince's pew, at Ethel's invitation; and directly across the aisle was Miss Wygant, miraculously resplendent in a springtime costume, yet with a touch of primness, becoming to the Sabbath. She did not see her adorer until after the service, when they met face to face.

“Why, Samuel!” she exclaimed. “You are here?”

“Yes, Miss Gladys,” he said. “I'm to work in the church now.”

“You don't tell me!” she responded.

“I'm to help the sexton,” he added.

“And he belongs to the church, too,” put in little Ethel. “And oh, Miss Gladys, won't you please let him tell you about Sophie!”

“About Sophie?” said the other.

“She's a little girl who works in your papa's mill, Miss Gladys. And her family's very poor, and she is sick, and Samuel says she may die.”

“Why, that's too bad!” exclaimed Miss Gladys. “Tell me about her, Samuel.”

And Samuel told the story. At the end a sudden inspiration came to him, and he mentioned how Sophie had received her Christmas present from Miss Gladys, and how she had kept her pictures in her room.

And, of course, Miss Wygant was touched. “I will see what I can do for her,” she said. “What would you suggest?”

“I thought,” said he boldly, “that maybe there might be some place for her at your home. That would make her so happy, you know.”

“I will see,” said the other. “Will you bring her to see me to-morrow, Samuel?”

“I will,” said he; and then he chanced to look into her face, and he caught again that piercing gaze which made the blood leap into his cheeks, and the strange and terrible emotions to stir in him. He turned his eyes away again, and his knees were trembling as he passed on down the aisle.

He stood and watched Miss Gladys enter her motor. Then he bade good-by to Ethel and her mother, and hurried back into the vestry room to tell Dr. Vince of his good fortune.

The good doctor had just slipped out of his vestments, and was putting on his cuffs. “I am so glad to hear it!” he said. “It was the very thing to do!”

“Yes,” said Samuel. “And, doctor, I've thought of something else.”

“What is that, Samuel?”

“I'll have to have a minute or two to tell you about it.”

“I'm just going to dinner now”—began the doctor.

“I'll walk with you, if I may,” said Samuel. “It's really very important.”

“All right,” responded the doctor in some trepidation.

“I thought of this in the middle of the night,” explained the boy, when they had started down the street. “It kept me awake for hours. Dr. Vince, I think we ought to convert Master Albert Lockman!”

“Convert him?” echoed the other perplexed.

“Yes, sir,” said the boy. “He is leading a wild life, and he's in a very bad way.”

“Yes, Samuel,” said the clergyman. “It is terrible, I know—”

“We must labor with him!” exclaimed Samuel. “He must not be allowed to go on like that!”

“Unfortunately,” said Dr. Vince hastily, “it wouldn't do for me to try it. You see, the Lockmans have always been Presbyterians, and so Bertie is under Dr. Handy's care.”

“But is Dr. Handy doing anything about it?” persisted the other.

“I really don't know, Samuel.”

“Because if he isn't, we ought to, Dr. Vince! Something must be done.”

“My boy,” said the doctor, “perhaps it wouldn't be easy for you to understand it. But there is a feeling—would it be quite good taste for me to try to take away a very rich parishioner from another church?”

“But what have his riches to do with it?” asked the boy.

“Unfortunately, Samuel, it costs money to build churches; and most clergymen are dependent upon their salaries, you know.”

The good doctor was trying to make a jest of it; but Samuel was in deadly earnest. “I hope,” he said, “that you are not dependent upon the money of anyone like Master Albert.”

“Um—no,” said the doctor quickly.

“Understand me, please,” went on the other. “It's not simply that Master Albert is wrecking his own life. I suppose that's his right, if he wants to. But it's what he can do to other people! It's his money, Dr. Vince! Just think of it, he has seven hundred thousand dollars a year! And he never earned a cent of it; and he doesn't know what to do with it! Doctor, you KNOW that isn't right!”

“No,” said the clergyman, “it's very wrong indeed. But what can you do about it?”

“I don't know, doctor. I haven't had time to think about it—I've only just begun to realize it. But I thought if somebody like yourself—some one he respects—could point it out to him, he might use his money to some good purpose. If he won't, why then he ought to give it up.”

The other smiled. “I'm afraid, Samuel, he'd hardly do that!”

“But, doctor, things can't go on as they are! Right here in this town are people dying of starvation. And he has seven hundred thousand dollars a year! Can that continue?”

“No, I trust not, my boy. It will be better some day. But it must be left to evolution—”

“Evolution!” echoed Samuel perplexed. “Do you believe in evolution?”

“Why,” said the other embarrassed—“what I mean is, that there are vast social forces at work—great changes taking place. But they move very slowly—”

“But why do they move so slowly?” objected the boy. “Isn't it just because so many people, don't care?”

“Why, Samuel—”

“If everyone would take an interest in them—then they would happen quickly!”

The two walked on for a minute in silence. Finally, the clergyman remarked, “Samuel, you take a great interest in social questions.”

“Yes, sir,” said the boy. “You see, I have been down at the bottom, and I know how it feels. Nobody else can possibly understand—not even you, sir, with all your kind heart. You don't know what it means, sir—you don't know what it means!”

“Perhaps not, my boy,” said the other. “But my conscience is far from easy, I assure you. The only thing is, we must not be too impatient—we must learn to wait—”

“But, doctor!” exclaimed Samuel. “Will the people wait to starve?”

That question was a poser; and perhaps it was just as well that Dr. Vince was nearing the steps of his home. “I must go in now, Samuel,” he said. “But we will talk about these questions another time.”

“Yes, sir,” said Samuel, “we will.”

And the other glanced at him quickly. But the boy's face wore its old look of guileless eagerness.