“’Tis true for you; you have done the best you could,” said the priest heartily, and both the men were silent, while the river, which was older than they and had seen a whole race of men disappear before they came—­the river took this opportunity to speak louder than ever.

“I think that manufacturing prospects look a little brighter,” said the agent, wishing to be cheerful.  “There are some good orders out, but of course the buyers can take advantage of our condition.  The treasurer writes me that we must be firm about not starting up until we are sure of business on a good paying margin.”

“Like last year’s?” asked the priest, who was resting himself in the armchair.  There was a friendly twinkle in his eyes.

“Like last year’s,” answered the agent.  “I worked like two men, and I pushed the mills hard to make that large profit.  I saw there was trouble coming, and I told the directors and asked for a special surplus, but I had no idea of anything like this.”

“Nine per cent. in these times was too good a prize,” said Father Daley, but the twinkle in his eyes had suddenly disappeared.

“You won’t get your new church for a long time yet,” said the agent.

“No, no,” said the old man impatiently.  “I have kept the foundations going as well as I could, and the talk, for their own sakes.  It gives them something to think about.  I took the money they gave me in collections and let them have it back again for work.  ’Tis well to lead their minds,” and he gave a quick glance at the agent. “’Tis no pride of mine for church-building and no good credit with the bishop I’m after.  Young men can be satisfied with those things, not an old priest like me that prays to be a father to his people.”

Father Daley spoke as man speaks to man, straight out of an honest heart.

“I see many things now that I used to be blind about long ago,” he said.  “You may take a man who comes over, him and his wife.  They fall upon good wages and their heads are turned with joy.  They’ve been hungry for generations back and they’ve always seen those above them who dressed fine and lived soft, and they want a taste of luxury too; they’re bound to satisfy themselves.  So they’ll spend and spend and have beefsteak for dinner every day just because they never had enough before, but they’d turn into wild beasts of selfishness, most of ’em, if they had no check.  ’Tis there the church steps in.  ’Remember your Maker and do Him honor in His house of prayer,’ says she.  ’Be self-denying, be thinking of eternity and of what’s sure to come!’ And you will join with me in believing that it’s never those who have given most to the church who come first to the ground in a hard time like this.  Show me a good church and I’ll show you a thrifty people.”  Father Daley looked eagerly at the agent for sympathy.

“You speak the truth, sir,” said the agent.  “Those that give most are always the last to hold out with honest independence and the first to do for others.”