church, built in the old style, ran on three sides.  So Father Collins preached.  It was the sermon he had prepared for the High Mass, but which he could not deliver.  The beauty of it had been plain to Father Grady when he read it; but it was plainer to the enraptured congregation which sat listening to every syllable.  Neither the Doctor nor Mr. O’Brien attempted to sleep.  In fact there were no sleepers at all, for upright in the pews sat every man and woman, hanging on the preacher’s words.

In the midst of his discourse Father Collins detected the smell of smoke and thought that all was lost.  But he made another effort.  His voice rose higher and his words thundered over the heads of the astonished people, who were so rapt that they could not even ask themselves what had wrought the miracle.  If they smelled the smoke, they gave no sign, for a born orator, who had found himself, held them in the grip of his eloquence.  Father Collins took another glance at the gallery.  The front row would go in a moment.  Above all, the people must not be distracted now.  Something must be done to hold their attention when the noise of the moving of that front row would fall upon their ears.  In two minutes all would be well.  That two minutes were the greatest of the priest’s life.  Into them centered every bit of intensity, earnestness and enthusiasm he possessed.  He rapidly skipped part of his sermon and came to the burst of appeal, with which he was to close.  The people could see him tremble in every limb.  His face was as white as his surplice.  His eyes were wide open and shining as if he were deeply moved by his own pleadings.  He quickly descended the steps of the altar and advanced to the railing.  The congregation did not dare to take its eyes away from him.  The noise of the departing children fell upon unheeding ears.  The intensity of the man had been transferred to his listeners.  A whispered ‘all right’ reached the priest from the lips of the Sacristan behind, and Father Collins stopped.  His voice dropped back to the tone with which he began his discourse.  It was a soft, musical voice, that people till now did not know he possessed.

“My friends,” he said, “keep your seats for a moment.  Those in the front pews will go out quietly now.  Let one pew empty at a time.  Do not crowd.  There is no danger, at present, but a fire has broken out below, and we want to take every precaution for safety.”

“Stop,” he thundered, and his voice went up again.  “You, who are leaving from the center of the church, remain in your seats.  Do not start a rush.  Do not worry about the children, they are all out.  Look at the galleries.  They are empty.  The children were cool.  Do not let the little ones shame you.  Now, give the old and feeble a chance.”

With voice and gesture, he directed the movement of the people, and then, the church emptied, he looked toward the vestry door.  The Sacristan was there.