The young rector answered quietly: "As I said before, Mr. Litterny, you
have been most generous. We are grateful more than I know how to say."
His manner was very winning, and the older man's kind face brightened.

"The greatest luxury which money brings is to give it away. St. John's
owes its thanks not to me, but to you, Mr. North. I have meant for some
time to put into words my appreciation of your work there. In two years
you have infused more life and earnestness into that sleepy parish than
I thought possible. You've waked them up, put energy into them, and got
it out of them. You've done wonders. It's right you should know that
people think this of you, and that your work is valued."

"I am glad," Norman North said, and the restraint of the words carried
more than a speech.

Mr. Litterny went on: "But there's such a thing as overdoing, young man,
and you're shaving the edge of it. You're looking ill--poor color--thin
as a rail. You need a rest."

"I think I'll go to Bermuda. My senior warden was there last year, and
he says it's a wonderful little place--full of flowers and tennis and
sailing, and blue sea and nice people." He stood up suddenly and
broadened his broad shoulders. "I love the south," he said. "And I love
out-of-doors and using my muscles. It's good to think of whole days
with no responsibility, and with exercise till my arms and legs ache. I
get little exercise, and I miss it. I was on the track team at Yale, you
see, and rather strong at tennis."

Mr. Litterny smiled, and his smile was full of sympathy. "We try to make
a stained-glass saint out of you," he said, "and all the time you're a