ght up the street to
God like that.'

There was a dark corner in the picture, and two weeping people being
turned away. In fact it was as nearly like the original as it could
be, only it was much bigger, and the gates were lovely in their gold
and white paint.

True admired it as much as he did, and would often come and stand and
look at it with delight and awe.

'I wonder if I have a right to go inside,' she said. 'I love having a
right to do things, then no one can stop me.'

'It's wearing a white robe gives you right,' said Bobby.

'Yes, and doing the Commandments,' responded True quickly; 'that's the
differcult part. But I mean to be inside, not outside, I tell you
that!'

Many delightful excursions did the children have with their father, but
the summer days began to shorten and the sun appeared less often, and
Mrs. Allonby kept them more at home. She herself did not get stronger.
Her appetite failed. Gradually she came downstairs less, and kept in
bed more. Mr. Allonby grew careworn and anxious, the doctor appeared
very often, and still Bobby and True played together gleefully, with
little idea of the black shadow that was going to fall upon their happy
home.

Then one bright sunny morning True asked Mr. Allonby if he would give
them a ride in his car.

He looked at her for an instant in silence, then said slowly:

'No, we must do without motor drives now; I am going to sell it.'

'Sell it! Oh, dad, you mustn't!'

'I must,' he said; 'I want to give your mother all the comfort and ease
I can, and we are poor people. Besides, I shall have no heart for
anything now.'

'Why?' questioned True.

'Don't ask so many questions,' Mr. Allonby said sharply, and he was so
seldom vexed with them that the children looked at each other with
dismayed faces.

Later that morning Mr. Allonby was wandering moodily up and down his
strip of garden smoking his pipe; his head was bent, his hands loosely
clasped behind him. Suddenly he felt a soft little hand take hold of
one of his.

'Father, dear, do tell me about your sad finks. I know they're sad
from your face.'

It was Bobby. His father looked down upon him for a minute, then
without a word led him into a field which ran up at the back of their
garden. He paced the whole length of the field with his little son
before he spoke again, and then, leaning against a five-barred gate, he
said heavily:

'I can't hold up against it, sonny! I was a worthle