m, even as you may see him, is
better, in a way, than not to have seen him at all."

Edward did not know what Phillips Brooks meant. But he was, sadly, to
find out the next day.

A boy was pretty sure of a welcome from Louisa Alcott, and his greeting
from her was spontaneous and sincere.

"Why, you good boy," she said, "to come all the way to Concord to see
us," quite for all the world as if she were the one favored. "Now take
your coat off, and come right in by the fire. Do tell me all about
your visit."

Before that cozy fire they chatted. It was pleasant to the boy to sit
there with that sweet-faced woman with those kindly eyes! After a
while she said: "Now I shall put on my coat and hat, and we shall walk
over to Emerson's house. I am almost afraid to promise that you will
see him. He sees scarcely any one now. He is feeble, and--" She did
not finish the sentence. "But we'll walk over there, at any rate."

She spoke mostly of her father as the two walked along, and it was easy
to see that his condition was now the one thought of her life.
Presently they reached Emerson's house, and Miss Emerson welcomed them
at the door. After a brief chat Miss Alcott told of the boy's hope.
Miss Emerson shook her head.

"Father sees no one now," she said, "and I fear it might not be a
pleasure if you did see him."

Then Edward told her what Phillips Brooks had said.

"Well," she said, "I'll see."

She had scarcely left the room when Miss Alcott rose and followed her,
saying to the boy: "You shall see Mr. Emerson if it is at all possible."

In a few minutes Miss Alcott returned, her eyes moistened, and simply
said: "Come."

The boy followed her through two rooms, and at the threshold of the
third, Miss Emerson stood, also with moistened eyes.

"Father," she said simply, and there, at his desk, sat Emerson--the man
whose words had already won Edward Bok's boyish interest, and who was
destined to impress himself upon his life more deeply than any other
writer.

Slowly, at the daughter's spoken word, Emerson rose with a wonderful
quiet dignity, extended his hand, and as the boy's hand rested in his,
looked him full in the eyes.

No light of welcome came from those sad yet tender eyes. The boy
closed upon the hand in his with a loving pressure, and for a single
moment the eyelids rose, a different look came into those eyes, and
Edward felt a slight, perceptible response of the hand. But that was
all!