as before, I
am a messenger to show you the way back. I have come to tell you that
there is still Somebody who cares whether you are lost or not. There is
still Some One who waits to guide you home. He asks you as a little
child to take hold of His hand and He will lead you out of the fearful
darkness. I do not ask what nameless deeds have made you fear the light
of day and the eyes of men. I only know you are my friends, to whom I so
gladly bring this message, and to whom I so willingly give my strength
and my life to help you find the way back to the greatest Friend, who,
understanding all, forgives."

A look resembling a shadow of hope came into their faces as she
finished, and when, at a sign, Zura haltingly played, "I Need Thee Every
Hour," and the people stumbled along with the music in an attempt to
sing, the burden of the sound as well as the song was a cry for help.

The song finished, one part of the crowd seemed to fade away, the others
stayed and gathered about Jane as if only to touch her meant something
better than their own sin-stained lives. She moved among them speaking
gently to this one, earnestly to that one. Tenderly she smoothed the
covers over the sick bodies, leaving a smile and word of cheer wherever
she stopped.

Sentimentalism dropped from her like a garment worn for play. It was the
spiritual woman only I was seeing, one who faced these real and awful
facts of life with the calm, blissful assurance of knowing the truth, of
giving her life for humanity because of love.

Jane Gray was indeed a "Daughter of Hope."

* * * * *

A little later, Zura--here, there, everywhere, like a bright autumn
leaf dancing among dead twigs--found me conversing with a man who all
the afternoon had kept very near to me and evidenced every desire to be
friendly.

"Belovedest," exclaimed the girl gaily, her face glowing as she
approached, "come with me quick or you will miss the sight of your young
life. You may come, too, sir, if you wish," addressing my persistent
companion, who apparently had decided to spend the rest of his natural
life in my presence.

Zura led us toward the rear of the house. As we approached a closed room
there came to us sounds of splashing water and happy squeals. She slid
open the paper doors. Before us were two big tubs full of small
children. The baths were wide enough for six and so deep only the
cropped heads showed above the rims as they stood