The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1920-11-26
by WINSTON Ciurchlli,
Author Of Orchard CarveII, '"rhe
Crisis- and Many Other Novels
of World Wide Popularity.


~ OR did il tend to ease his mind
IN that he was treated as one
who has passed on to higher
things.
81 was afraid you'd work too
hard" said Mrs. Whitley, in her
motherly way. II warned you
against it. Mr.. Holder. You never
spared yourself, but in a big city
parish it's different. But you've mau~
Guch "A success, Nelson tells me, and
verybody likes you there. j knew
they would, of course. That Is our
only comfort in losing you, that
you have gone to the greater work.
But we do miss you"
The air OF Brcmerton, and later
the air OF Bar Harbor had II certain
reviving effect. And John Holder.
although he might be cast down.
had never once entertained the
notion of surrender. He was ia
clined to attribute the depressiO>
through which he had passed. the
disappointment he had undergone.
as just punish .nent for an over
abundance of ego-only Holder
used the theological term for the
laborcd largely for his own glory.
and not Gods? Had he ever for
gotten himself? Had the idea ever
been far from his thoughts that 1t
was he. John Holder. who would
build up the parish of st. Johns
into a living organization of faith
and works?
The curious thing was that he
had the power, and save in m.
ments of WEAKNESS he felt IT in
him. He must try to remembe,
always that this power was fro n
God But why had be been unable
to apply it?
And there renamed disturbingiy
In his memory certain phrases or
Mrs. Constable's. such as elements
of growth" He would change. she
had said; and he had appeared to
her as one with depths. Unsus-
pected depths-pockets that held
the steam, which was increasing in
pressure.
"At Bremerton. it had not gath
cred in the pockets, he had used 1t
sll-all had counted; but in the
feverish, ceaseless activity OF the
city parish he had never once felt
that intense satisfaction OF empty
ing himself. nor the sweet weari-
ness THAT follows 1t. His seemed
the WEAKNESS of futility. And IN
trospection was revealing crack
after SO many years-in that self
that he had believed to be so
strongly welded.
"YOU NEED THE REST
Enveloped in white flannel, she
met his early train at the ferry; an
unusual compliment to guest had
he but known it, but he accepted II
as a tribute to the church.
81 was so afraid you wouldn't
come" she said in a voice that con-
veyed indeed more than perfume
tory expression. She glanced at him
as he sat beside her on the cushions
of the flying motor boat, his
strange eyes fixed upon the blue
mountains Of the island whittier
they were bound, his unruly hair
famed by the wind.
'@Why?' he asked, smiling n the
fnce beneath the flying veil
~You need the rest. I believe In
men taking their work seriously,
but not SO seriously as you do"
She was so undisguisedly glad to
see him that he could scarcely have
been human IL he had not respond
ed. And she gave MIN, in that fort
night. a glimpse OF a life that was
new and distracting: at times made
him forget-and he was willing to
forget-the lower forms Of which 1t
was the Understandable factories
that hummed, the FORCES that flung
their fires into the night In order
il might exist: the Dalton streets
that went without.
The enluvia from hot asphalt
bore no resemblance TO the salt
laden air that ratified the Venetian
blinds of the big bedroom to which