ence of Christ in the world! He was not the only one who had
felt the Presence. Some one moved as he had been to-night had
established this big house of healing. There on the opposite wall was a
great stained-glass window representing Christ blessing the little
children, and the people bringing the maimed and halt and lame and blind
to Him for healing.

The quiet night routine went on about him; the strong, pervasive odor of
antiseptics; the padded tap of the nurses' rubber soles as they went
softly on their rounds; the occasional click of a glass and a spoon
somewhere; the piteous wail of a suffering child in a distant ward; the
sharp whir of an electric bell; the homely thud of the elevator on its
errands up and down; even the controlled yet ready spring to service of
all concerned when the ambulance rolled up and a man on a stretcher,
with a ghastly cut in his head and face, was brought in; all made him
feel how little and useless his life had been hitherto. How suddenly he
had been brought face to face with realities!

He began to wonder if the Presence was everywhere, or if there were
places where His power was not manifest. There had been the red library!
There also had been that church last Sunday.

The office clock chimed softly out the hour of three o'clock. It was
Sunday morning. Should he go to church again and search for the
Presence, or make up his mind that the churches were out of it entirely
and that it was only in places of need and sorrow and suffering that He
came? Still, that was not fair to the churches, perhaps, to judge all by
one. What an experience the night had been! Did Wittemore, majoring in
philanthropy, ever spend nights like this? If so, there must be depths
to Wittemore's nature that were worth sounding.

He drew his handkerchief from his inner pocket, and as he did so a whiff
of violets came remindingly, but he paid no heed. Gila's letter lay in
his pocket, still unread. The antiseptics were at work upon his senses
and the violets could not reach him.

There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was in a tumble,
but he looked good to Nurse Wright as she came down the hall at last to
give him her report. She almost thought he was good enough for her
Bonnie girl now. She wasn't given to romances, but she felt that Bonnie
needed one most mightily about now.

"She didn't wake up except to open her eyes and smile once," she
reported, reassuringly. "She coughs a little now and t