jewel in her hair.

He had the strange thought that she might be really beautiful if only
she would remove the mask which gave her face that distant expression
and almost hid her eyes. And he remembered, all of a sudden, how he
had often been helped by her, and how she had always been near, as if
she wished to help him even more, and how she had comforted him that
night when he had seen a star fall by assuring him that he was _a
little bit of God_.

He began speaking to her with a new feeling of constraint. "I dreamed
of seeing my mother and father last night," he said.

She smiled faintly. "I know," she replied. "All the other children
had the same dream. That is what all children dream of here in this
chamber."

He opened his eyes very wide. How could she know what all the other
children had dreamed, since it did not appear that they had told her of
their dreams? But he continued: "They seemed a little sad," he said.
"My mother's eyes were troubled, and my father shook his head."

"Yes, Everychild?"

"And I wondered if I might not see them again, really. It would be
good to see them again; and you know I have come so far . . ."

The Masked Lady replied: "Nothing delights me so much as to have
children and their parents find each other. That is my highest
dream--to bring together the parents and children who have lost each
other."

"And shall I find them?"

"I think you are on the way even now to find them--perhaps sooner than
you dare to hope."

"If I could find them now," continued Everychild, "I think I could
willingly give up my search for--for the truth. It seemed a wonderful
thing to seek for when I began, but I am not anxious to do so any more."

There was a new note in her voice as she replied, "Truth is very close
to those who still seek, but who have ceased to be anxious."

He did not know why the words should have thrilled him so. If he could
find the truth, after all, and still have his parents again! He
permitted his eyes to rest on the Masked Lady's rather forbidding face.
And then he began impulsively--"Dear lady! . . ."

"Yes, Everychild?" she returned gently.

He sought eagerly for the right words. "I did not know it myself for a
long time," he said, "But I think I know now . . ."

"I am waiting, Everychild!"

His voice almost failed him. "There was such a long time that I
thought I feared you a little," he continued, "--when it seemed better
to stand quite apart fro