Charred Wood

"Oh, good day, Mr. Sturgis. How are you?" Father Murray stopped to shake hands. Mr. Sturgis was a justice of the peace and the wag of the town. He always insisted on being elected to the office as a joke, for he was a well-to-do business man.

"Fine, fine, Elder," he answered. "Have you seen my new card?" He fumbled for one in his pocket and handed it over. Father Murray read it aloud: JOHN JONATHAN STURGIS Justice of the Peace The only exclusive matrimonial magistrate.

Marriages solemnized promptly, accurately and eloquently.

Fees Moderate. Osculation extra.

Office at the Flour Mill, which has, however, no connection with my smooth-running Matrimonial Mill.

P. S. My Anti-Blushine is guaranteed not to injure the most delicate complexion.

"You'll be running the clergy clean out of business if this keeps up, Mr. Sturgis," laughed the priest. "But unless I am much mistaken, you didn't stop me only to show the card. There's something else? I see it on your face."

"I thought you would, Elder. Let us walk down the side street a bit and I'll tell you." The Justice became serious. "Elder, I suppose you know Roberts who keeps the Depot Hotel?"

"I know him only slightly."

"He was in to see me to-day, on what he called 'important business.' He is a crony of my constable. He had a cock and bull story about that lady at Killimaga, who goes to your church. I guess the constable told it to him. I gave him no satisfaction because there was nothing in it that concerned me; but the old scamp thinks it might hurt you, so he gave it to Brinn, who will publish it if you don't drop in on him."

Father Murray put his hand on the shoulder of the justice. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Sturgis," he said. "I would like to save the lady from annoyance, and will see Mr. Brinn at once; but I must begin by apologizing for my recent attack on his beauty."

"No need to do that, Father," assured the justice. "He printed the joke himself in to-day's Herald."

When the priest left the office of the editor, he walked toward the rectory in deep thought, quite evidently worried, but the suppressed story was safely in his pocket.