prise,
unmolested and unafraid, she made her way through streets where no one
officer went alone. Haunts of criminals and gamblers, murderers in
hiding followed by their unspeakable womenkind.

This dream of Miss Gray's scorned to limit itself to a hospital for
diseased bodies of the wretched inhabitants, but included a chapel for
sick souls. These days it was difficult enough to get money for real
things, the unreal stood no chance. Without resources of her own, backed
by no organization, it seemed to me, like a child planning a palace. To
the little missionary the dawn of each glorious day brought new
enthusiasm, fresh confidence and the vision was an ever beckoning fire,
which might consume her body if it would accomplish her desire.

At present she rented a tiny house in the Quarters and called it her
preaching place. I was told that to it flocked the outcasts of life who
listened in silent curiosity to the strange foreign woman delivering a
message from a stranger foreign God.

As the days went by the members of my household were deeply absorbed in
dreams of a hospital, pursuit of passage money to America, and wisdom in
guiding girls.

In all the years in my adopted country I'd never seen so lovely an
autumn. Colors were brighter, the haze bluer, and far more tender the
smile of the heavens on the face of the waters.

The song of the North wind through the top of the ancient pines was no
melancholy dirge of the dying summer, but a hymn of peace and restful
joy to the coming winter.

One lovely day melted into another. The year was sinking softly to its
close when one evening found Zura, Jane and me quietly at work in the
living-room of the House of the Misty Star. Jane was knitting on the
eternal bibs, Zura adding figures in a little book.

Our quiet was broken by a knock at the door. Maple Leaf appeared bearing
on a tray a pink folded paper.

"It's a cable; I know its color," exclaimed Zura, "and it's for Miss
Jane Gray."

With shaking fingers Jane tore open the message. She read, then dropped
her face in her hands.

"What is it?" I asked anxiously.

"It's the hospital."

"In a cable?" cried Zura. "Think of that and break into tears."

"No, the money for it."

"Money! Where did you get it?" I demanded, thinking that Jane had
suddenly gone crazy.

"I prayed and wrote letters," she answered. "Read."

Still doubting I took the paper and read aloud:

Build hospital. Draft for four thousand