It was Wednesday morning when the two visitors left, and the discussions only ended when the door closed upon them.  There was not a theological book in Father Ryan’s library left unconsulted.

When Father Fanning was at the door, grip in hand, he said:  “Well, I guess we have come to no conclusion, Ryan.  You will have to finish it, yourself, and decide for yourself.  But there is one thing I can testify to, besides the stubbornness of my venerable friend here, and that is that I have learned more theology out of this three-day discussion than I learned in three years previously.  There is nothing like a fight to keep a fellow in training.”

His friends gone, Father Ryan went straight to his desk and wrote this letter to his Bishop: 

YOUR LORDSHIP—­I am sending herewith enclosed my Seminary collection.  It amounts to $1,063.10.  You may be surprised at the first figure; but there was a thousand dollar note handed to me for that particular collection.  I congratulate the Seminary on getting it.

     “The church is ready for dedication as your Lordship
     arranged.

     “Kindly wire me and I will meet you at the train.”

Then Father Ryan went to bed.  He did not expect to sleep very much that night; but in spite of his worry, and to his own great surprise, he had the most peaceful sleep of all the years of his priesthood.

The church was dedicated.  The Bishop, severe of face, abrupt in manner, but if the truth were known, kindly at heart, finished his work before he asked to see the books of the parish.

Father Ryan was alone with his Lordship when the time for that ordeal came.  He handed the books to the Bishop and laid a financial statement before him.  The Bishop glanced at it, frowned and then read it through.  The frown was still on his face as he looked up at the young priest before him.

“This looks as if you had been practicing a little deceit upon me, Father Ryan,” he said.  “You wrote me that the church was finished without debt.”

“I thought so, my Lord, when I wrote you the letter.  I had the money on hand to pay the exact amount of the contract.  The architect and the builder came to me later and informed me that there had been extras, of which I knew nothing, amounting to one thousand dollars.  I am one thousand dollars behind.  I assure your Lordship that it was not my fault, except that perhaps I should have known more about the tactics of the men I was dealing with.  I will have to raise the money some way; and, of course, I do not expect your Lordship to send me to Lansville.  I am sorry, but I have done the best I could.  I will know more about building next time.”

The Bishop had no word to say.  Though the frown appeared pretty well fixed upon his face, it did not seem quite natural.  There was a twinkle in his eye that only an expert on bishops could perceive.

“But you sent me one thousand dollars more than I could have expected only this week, for the Seminary,” he said.  That surely indicates that you have some people here who might help you out of your dilemma.”