"You surely don't mean Father Cruse of St.
Barnabas's ?" he exclaimed eagerly.
"Exactly." "Was it he who burst in that door ?" "It was, and there isn't a tramp or a stranded girl within half a mile of where we sit that he doesn't know and take care of.

So I say you can have your money kings and your popes and your doges; as for me, I'll take Father Cruse every time, and there's dozens just like him." Felix pushed back his chair, reached for his hat, said good night in his usual civil tone, and left the shop, Murford merely nodding at him over the bowl of his pipe, the others taking no notice of his departure.

It was the way they did things at Kelsey's.

There were no great welcomings when they arrived and no good-bys when they parted.

They would meet again the next night, perhaps the next morning--and more extended courtesies were considered unnecessary.
All the way back to Kitty's the erect figure of Father Cruse, holding the emblem of his faith in that dimly lighted room stood out clear.