bscure
even to the eye of science; but every day those changes make or mar our
joy. Susan Stoddard looked for a long minute up into the vivid face
bending over hers, while her spirit, even as Agatha's had done, pierced
the hedge which separated them, and comprehended something of the
goodness in the other's soul. Finally she laid her other hand over
Agatha's, enclosing it in a strong clasp. Then, with a certain
pathetic pride in her submission, she said:

"I have been wrong, Agatha; I will come." Agatha's grateful eyes dwelt
on hers, but the strain of the interview was beginning to count. She
sank down in the chair that Mrs. Stoddard had offered at the beginning
of their meeting, and covered her eyes with one hand. The elder woman
kept the other.

"We will not go to our task alone," she said, "we will ask God's help.
The prayer of faith shall heal the sick." Then falling to her knees by
Agatha's side, with rapt, lifted face and closed eyes, she made her
confession and her petition to the Lord. Her ringing voice intoned the
phrases of the Bible as if they had been music and bore the burden of
her deepest soul. She said she had been sinful in imputing
unrighteousness to others, and that she had been blinded by her own
wilfulness. She prayed for the stranger within her gates, for the sick
man over yonder, and implored God's blessing on the work of her hands;
and praise should be to the Lord. Amen.

"And now, Angie," she said practically, as she rose to her feet,
addressing the girl who instantly appeared from around the doorway, "go
and tell Little Simon to drive up to the horse-block. Agatha, you go
home and rest, and I'll get hitched up and be over there almost as soon
as you are. Angie will help me get the ice-bag and all the other
things, in case you might not have them handy. Come, Agatha!"

But they paused yet a moment, stopping as if by a common instinct to
look at the white cross. Susan Stoddard gazed down on it with a grief
in her eyes that was the more heartbreaking because it was
inarticulate. Agatha remembered the doctor's words, and understood
something of the friction that could exist between this evangelistic
sister and the finer, more intellectual brother.

"I've never been inside the old red house since he died," said Mrs.
Stoddard.

"I'm sorry!" cried Agatha. "It is hard for you to come there, I know."

"He maketh the rough places plain," chanted Susan Stoddard. "Hercules
was a