n."

"The yeast in the bread, and the sparkle in the wine they are the
life of it; they are what make the signs."

"If they only gave it out fresh, and a little of it! But they keep
it over, and it grows cold and tough and flat, and people sit round
and pretend, but they don't eat. They've eaten other things,--all
sorts of trash,--before they came. They've spoiled their appetites.
Mine was spoiled, to-day. I felt so new and fussy, in these brown
things. So I turned round, and came here."

Mr. Oldways' saying came back into Mrs. Froke's mind:--

"Haven't you got any light, Rachel, that might shine a little for
that child?"

Perhaps that was what the child had come for.

What had the word of the Spirit been to Rachel Froke this day? The
new, fresh word, with the leaven in it? "A little of it;" that was
what she wanted.

Rachel took up the small red Bible that lay on the lightstand beside
her.

"I'll will give thee my First-Day crumb, Desire," she said. "It may
taste sweet to thee."

She turned to Revelation, seventh chapter.

"Look over with me; thee will see then where the crumb is," she
said; and as Desire came near and looked over her upon the page,
she read from the last two verses:--

"They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more.

"For the _Tenderness_ that is in the midst of the _Almightiness_
shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water;
and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes."

Her voice lingered over the words she put for the "Lamb" and the
"Throne," so that she said "Tenderness" with its own very yearning
inflection, and "Almightiness" with a strong fullness, glad in that
which can never fall short or be exhausted. Then she softly laid
over the cover, and sat perfectly still. It was the Quaker silence
that falls upon them in their assemblies, leaving each heart to
itself and that which the Spirit has given.

Desire was hushed all through; something living and real had
thrilled into her thought; her restlessness quieted suddenly under
it, as Mary stood quiet before the message of the angel.

When she did speak again, after a time, as Rachel Froke broke the
motionless pause by laying the book gently back again upon the
table, it was to say,--

"Why don't they preach like that, and leave the rest to preach
itself? A Sermon means a Word; why don't they just say the word, and
let it go?"

The Friend made no reply.

"I never could--quite--like that abo