a battle in the secret chamber of his own soul; fought a battle and
won; putting from himself forever, as he believed, the dreams he had
dared to dream in the lonely evening hours in the printing office.

His struggle with himself seemed to make Dick feel more keenly the
awful mockery of the worshippers; and to him, who all his life had
been used to looking at things as they really were, without the glasses
of conventionalism or early training, the very atmosphere of the place
was stifling.

When the services were over, he rushed from the building without even
returning Charlie's salutation, only drawing a long breath when he was
safe on the street again; and rejoiced in his heart when at dinner,
the restaurant keeper cursed his wife in the kitchen, and a drunken
boarder fell from his chair. "This, at least, is real," he said to
himself; "but what a world this would be if only the Sermon on the
Mount were lived, not simply talked about."

The Monday night following Dick's visit to the church, Charlie Bowen
had gone back to the office after supper, as he often did when business
was brisk, forgetting that it was the first Monday in the month, and
that the official board of the Jerusalem Church would hold their regular
business meeting there.

The matter was only brought to his mind when Elder Wicks, with Rev.
Cameron, entered, followed soon after by two or three others. Charlie's
first impulse was to leave the office, but it was necessary that his
work be done. His employer knew that he was there and could easily
give him a hint if it would be better for him to retire. Shrewd old
Uncle Bobbie, however, had his own plans in regard to this particular