people into the Church, nor keep them if we do get them, until we treat them as equals. I quite agree with you that the first thing to do is to make all pews free."
"I am fully convinced of that, but I fear that I shall not be able to get my vestry to agree with me."
"Then we will elect a vestry that will agree with you."
"That is easier said than done."
"I'll turn politician for the purpose. I'll canvass the parish before the Easter election. I'm determined to do what I can to abolish class distinctions in Christ Church. Mother says I'm a fanatic. Phil more than half suspects that she is right. Father doesn't care."
"You seem to have enlisted for the war."
"I have. I'm at your command. I'm ready for any practical service to which you wish to put me. I'm tired of seeing Christ Church a mere fashionable Sunday club. I want to help make it a religious home for everybody."
"You are very brave and generous. But I'm afraid you haven't counted the cost."
"What will it cost?"
"Possibly your social standing."
"I can afford to lose that."
"You will have to face opposition, ridicule, protest, misinterpretation of your motives."
"No doubt. But these things do not worry me in the least. Mr. Farrar, my mind is made up. You cannot discourage me, nor drive me out of this contest. I shall be with you—to the end."
She stood in the soft glow of the shaded lamp, a picture of resolute and splendid young womanhood; a modern Joan of Arc, as brave-souled and pure-spirited as her prototype of old. The rector of Christ Church stepped forward and took the hand she held out to him.
"You are an inspiration," he said; "you have filled
