It was a happy inspiration of Jack French’s that led Brown to invoke the aid of Mrs. French in securing the services of a nurse, and Mrs. French’s proposal that Irma, who for two years had been in regular training, should relieve Mrs. Brown of her duties as matron, was received by all concerned with enthusiastic approval.  And so, to the great relief of Mrs. Brown and to the unspeakable joy of both Kalman and his sister, Irma and Paulina with her child were installed in the Wakota institution, Irma taking charge of the hospital and Paulina of the kitchen.

It was not by Brown’s request or even desire that Paulina decided to make her home in the Wakota colony.  She was there because nothing could prevent her coming.  Her life was bound up with the children of her lord, and for their sakes she toiled in the kitchen with a devotion that never flagged and never sought reward.

The school, too, came back to Brown and in larger numbers than before.  Through the autumn and early winter, by his drunkenness and greed, Klazowski had fallen deeper and deeper into the contempt of his parishioners.  It was Kalman, however, that gave the final touch to the tottering edifice of his influence and laid it in ruins.  It was the custom of the priest to gather his congregation for public worship on Sunday afternoon in the schoolhouse which Brown placed at his disposal, and of which he assumed possession as his right, by virtue of the fact that it was his people who had erected the building.  On a Sunday afternoon, as the winter was nearing an end, Klazowski, under the influence of a too complete devotion to the beer barrel that stood in his host’s kitchen, spent an hour in a furious denunciation of the opponents of his holy religion, and especially of the heretic Brown and all his works, threatening with excommunication those who in any degree would dare after this date to countenance him.  His character was impugned, his motives declared to be of the basest.  This was too much for his congregation.  Deep murmurs rose among the people, but unwarned, the priest continued his execrations of the hated heretic.

At length Kalman, unable any longer to contain his indignation, sprang to his feet, gave the priest the lie direct and appealed to the people.

“You all know Mr. Brown,” he cried, “what sort of man is he?  And what sort of man is this priest who has spoken to you?  You, Simon Simbolik, when your child lay dead and you sought help of this Klazowski, what answer did he give you?”

“He asked me for ten dollars,” said Simon promptly, “and when I could not give it he cursed me from him.  Yes,” continued Simbolik, “and Mr. Brown made the coffin and paid for it, and would take no money.  My daughter is in his school, and is learning English and sewing, beautiful sewing, and she will stay there.”

“You, Bogarz,” cried Kalman, “when your children were down with scarlet fever and you went to the priest for help, what was his reply?”