are orange
plants," he explained proudly. "I planted the seeds a month ago, and see
how they've grown." He put his glasses on and bent down to examine them,
with an absorbed look. The pot that held the six spindling shoots had
streaks of white mould down its sides, and the earth was black and hard
with the deluge of water with which Mr. Dale's anxious care usually began
the season. He began now to loosen it gently with his penknife, saying,
"I'm sure they'll flourish if you look after them."

"I will if I'm here, uncle Henry," she replied.

"Ah, my dear," he said, looking at her sharply, "you are not thinking of
that hospital plan again?"

"Yes," she answered, "I cannot help it. I feel as though I must be of
some use in the world." She was standing in the stream of wintry sunshine
which flooded the narrow window, and Mr. Dale saw that some white threads
had begun to show in the bronze-brown waves of her hair. "Yes," she
continued, "it is so hard to keep still. I must do something, and be
something."

Mr. Dale stopped digging in his flower-pots, and looked at her without
speaking for a moment; then he said, "I wonder if you will not be
something nobler by the discipline of this quiet life, Helen? And are you
not really doing something if you rouse us out of our sleepy satisfaction
with our own lives, and make us more earnest? I know that cannot be your
object, as it would defeat itself by self-consciousness, but it is true,
my dear."

She did not speak.

"You see," he went on, in his gentle voice, "your life cannot be negative
anywhere. You have taken a stand for a vital principle, and it must make
us better. Truth is like heat or light; its vibrations are endless, and
are endlessly felt. There is something very beautiful to me, Helen,
speaking of truth, that you and your husband, from absolutely opposite
and extreme points, have yet this force of truth in your souls. You have
both touched the principle of life,--he from one side, you from the
other. But you both feel the pulse of God in it!"

"You know," she said gratefully, "you understand"--She stopped abruptly,
for she saw Lois coming hurriedly along the road, and when she opened the
gate she ran across the snowy lawn to Mr. Dale's office, instead of
following the path. There was something in her face which made Helen's
heart stand still.

She could not wait for her to reach the door, but went out bareheaded to
meet her.

Lois took her hands between her o