“‘Mite-boxes!’” thought Hubert and squirmed in his seat impatiently.  Then an inward voice reproved him for his contempt of small things.  He thought of the poor that might deposit from time to time small coins that meant much from their slender incomes.  Yes, “mites” were all right, if they were like the “widow’s,” and not the meager drippings from a selfish superfluity.  But suppose he take a mite-box?  How many of them would be required to hold the hoarded, unnecessary, unused wealth at his command?  He could not insult the Lord and the “dearest object of His heart” by an offering unworthy of his resources.

There was a pleasant buzz of voices at the close of the meeting and nobody seemed to be going.  Doctor Schoolman was shaking hands with Mr. Carew.  Doors were opened into the parlor and there was the fragrant odor of a collation prepared.  For the benevolences of New Laodicea were nothing like certain reluctant pumps that will give nothing until they have been given to.  To whet an interest in such meetings as this, and to cajole small sums from unwilling purses, it was found necessary to make a gastronomic appeal.

Hubert and Winifred moved forward to personally express to the lecturer their appreciation of his words.  Doctor Schoolman greeted them warmly and introduced them to him.  Mr. Carew had noticed the two among his hearers, and looked at them now with an unconsciously appealing glance.  His face was still flushed and the hand Hubert took was hot.

“You are not well,” said the latter involuntarily.

“No,” said Mr. Carew, rather absently, “I suppose not.”

“I should not think this work you are doing would tend to recovery?”

“No, perhaps not,” said the missionary.

Hubert looked at him inquiringly.  “Then why do you do it?” he wished to ask, but refrained.

Mr. Carew answered his questioning look.

“I am not to be pitied,” he said with a smile, “even if I should not recover as I hope to do.  Some men are sick and die for pure folly’s sake, or for business.  They are to be pitied.  But if it were given a man to be spent for Christ’s sake—­to know some faint shadow of suffering for the same cause for which He suffered as we never may—­that man is happy, I think.”

“He is,” said Hubert earnestly, “he is.”

Mr. Carew was struck by the sincerity of Hubert’s tones.  He looked at him with a searching, yearning expression; somewhat, it may be, as the Lord Jesus looked on the rich young man and “loved him.”  Would this one stand the test of love’s requirement?

Some ladies were taking Winifred away to the parlors for refreshments, and someone invited Mr. Carew and Hubert also.  They both accepted with the mutual wish to prolong the conversation.  As they ate they talked of the Living Bread which must be borne to men.

In the course of their conversation Hubert confessed:  “You will be astonished, but I have never before seen the matter as you presented it to-day, and yet I have been a Christian for three years.”