had gradually grown up a band of as mongrel, miserable vagabonds as is often seen.  They were the terror of the neighborhood.  Except for their supreme laziness, they would have been as dangerous as brigands; for they were utter outlaws.  No man cared for them; and they cared for no man.  Parson Dorrance’s heart yearned over these poor Ishmaelites; and he determined to see if they were irreclaimable.  The first thing that his townsmen knew of his plan was his purchase of several acres of land near “The Cedars.”  He bought it very cheap, because land in that vicinity was held to be worthless for purposes of cultivation.  Unless the crops were guarded night and day, they were surreptitiously harvested by foragers from “The Cedars.”  Then it was found out that Parson Dorrance was in the habit of driving over often to look at his new property.  Gradually, the children became used to his presence, and would steal out and talk to him.  Then he carried over a small microscope, and let them look through it at insects; and before long there might have been seen, on a Sunday afternoon, a group of twenty or thirty of the outcasts gathered round the Parson, while he talked to them as he had talked to the children.  Then he told them that, if they would help, he would build a little house on his ground, and put some pictures and maps in it for them, and come over every Sunday and talk to them; and they set to work with a will.  Very many were the shrugs and smiles over “Parson Dorrance’s Chapel at ‘The Cedars.’” But the chapel was built; and the Parson preached in it to sometimes seventy-five of the outlaws.  The next astonishment of the Parson’s friends was on finding him laying out part of his new land in a nursery of valuable young fruit-trees and flowering shrubs.  Then they said,—­

“Really, the Parson is mad!  Does he think he has converted all those negroes, so that they won’t steal fruit?” And, when they met the Parson, they laughed at him.  “Come, come, Parson,” they said, “this is carrying the thing a little too far, to trust a fruit orchard over there by ’The Cedars.’”

Parson Dorrance’s eyes twinkled.

“I know the boys better than you do,” he replied.  “They will not steal a single pear.”

“I’d like to wager you something on that,” said the friend.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly take such a wager,” answered the Parson, “because you see I know the boys won’t steal the fruit.”

Somewhat vexed at the obstinacy of the Parson’s faith, his friend exclaimed, “I’d like to know how you can know that beforehand?”

Parson Dorrance loved a joke.

“Neighbor,” said he, “I wish I could in honor have let you wager me on that.  I’ve given the orchard to the boys.  The fruit’s all their own.”