way through the dense mass packed at the doors, wedging his big form
roughly among the women, to the centre of the car, and mechanically
seized a strap. He was so used to this leather-strap habit that he
held on with one hand and, while reading, unfolded and folded his
paper with the other.

He climbed the hill to his home in the face of a howling snow-storm.

Ruth looked at him intently.

"I am sorry I couldn't get home earlier," he said, "I've had a hard
day."

"But such pleasant help that you didn't mind it, I'm sure. I heard
Miss Ransom was assisting you. I went to the church and found you
had gone out with her. I hear she is becoming indispensable in your
work."

"Come, Ruth, let's not have another silly quarrel."

"No; it's a waste of breath," she replied bitterly.

He slipped quietly out of the house after supper and hurried back
to his study to collect his thoughts for the battle he knew he must
wage with Van Meter. This one man had ruled the church with his
rod of gold for twenty years. He had established a mission station
on the East Side and gathered into it the undesirable people. He
was the watchdog of the Prudential Committee guarding the door to
membership.