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 Christy handed Chippy a nickel and held one himself. He brought the missionary box.

"Now, drop yours in," he directed. "Then I will drop mine. We'll take turn about."

Chippy was eager. His interest grew with every rattling coin until the last was safely inside. Then he straightened himself with a long breath.

"Lin said she was going to do it, and she's done it," he said.

"And she doesn't know how much she has done," said Christy, soberly.

"That's so," answered Chippy, with quick perception. "That's the best of it, I suppose. The best of everything, Lin says, is what the Lord can make out of it. Anything will go twice as far with Him, she says. You talk a great deal like her."

Christy lifted the box.

"It's about full," he said. "It's just about ready to empty again. But there is a little space yet. We will leave it. I shall be glad to see what gift will be put in on top of this."

The weeks passed. Several times over the missionary box was emptied into the pigeon-hole. On a foggy December afternoon a Mr. Richards was alone with Christy in the office. He had brought the young man a windfall of $1,000.

"It is by happy strokes like these," said Mr. Richards, "that a man grows rich."

Many such strokes of various kinds had come in the way of Mr. Richards during a long life.

"I have built up my own fortunes," he continued,