That month, while the Brother Man was peacefully watching by the side of the patient, and relieving Mrs.Strong and a neighbor who had helped before he came, Philip fought some tremendous battles with himself, with his thought of the church, and with the world about.

It is necessary to understand something of this in order to understand something of the meaning of his last Sunday in Milton--a Sunday that marked an era in the place, from which the people almost reckoned time itself.
As spring had blossomed into summer and summer ripened into autumn, every one had predicted better times.

But the predictions did not bring them.

The suffering and sickness and helplessness of the tenement district grew every day more desperate.

To Philip it seemed like the ulcer of Milton.