Harry thought; and the same uneasy restlessness of manner.
"Then, we give to--various causes, and--and there is, also,
my own salary ----"

"That is what it was intended for," said Harry.
"I hope the two hundred dollars will be of some use to you,
and then, indirectly, it will help your church."

Harry surprised a queer glance from the dean's brown eyes;
there was both humor and a something else that was solemn enough in it.
The dean had believed that there was a mistake.

"All of it! To ME!" cried Gilling.

"All of it. To YOU," Harry replied, dryly. He was conscious
of the dean's gaze upon him. "I had a sudden impulse,"
said he, "and I gave it; that is all."

The tears rose to the clergyman's eyes; he tried to wink them away,
then he tried to brush them away with a quick rub of his fingers,
then he sprang up and walked to the window, his back to Harry.
Directly he was facing the young man again, and speaking.

"You must excuse me, Mr. Lossing; since my sickness a little
thing upsets me."

"Mr. Gilling had diphtheria last spring," the dean struck in,
"there was an epidemic of diphtheria, in Matin's Junction; Mr. Gilling
really saved the place; but his wife and he both contracted the disease,
and his wife nearly died."