g
for herself only the day before, how gladly she would have answered:
but, if it should be Sleepy Hollow, could she say yes?

With her keen intuition, which had been sharpened by pain, Tryphosa
divined her thought.

'I am going to give you a new beatitude,' she said, brightly. 'Blessed
be drudgery, for it is the grey angel of success.'

'That is a hard gospel, my lady.'

'Perhaps, but ease and victory are for ever incompatible. The Father
loved the Son, yet He surrendered Him to a life of toil, and Christ
Himself gave His chosen ones the heritage of tribulation, crowned with
the sweet, bright gift of peace. It is the tried lives that ring the
truest. The idea runs all through the Bible. "Silver purified seven
times," and "gold tried in the fire," and "polished after the similitude
of a palace." Have you ever thought of the friction that involves? The
finest diamonds bear the most cutting, and it is the mission of the
diamond to reflect the light. If we would have our lives a success, we
must seek not happiness but harmony.'

'Harmony! With what, my lady?'

'The will of God, dear child. We are out of tune when God finds us. He
puts us in tune with our great keynote Jesus, and then we are like an
Aeolian harp. The west and the east winds make music through it, and the
shrieking storm the sweetest music of all. But remember, little one, it
is the "joy of the Lord" which is our strength. We must sit in the
sunshine if we would reflect the rainbow.'

That night Pauline spent upon her knees.

'It is ridiculous,' exclaimed Mr Davis, when, the next morning, she
announced her decision to the family. 'I will send a nurse down by the
early train, but it is not fit work for you, my child, and besides we
cannot spare you.'

Her eyes filled.

'It is so good of you to say that! But my Father has called me, and I
must go.'

'He does not say anything about your going in the letter,' said Mr
Davis, as he ran his eyes over the words.

'I mean my heavenly Father, Uncle Robert.' she said simply. 'The message
came last night.'

After that they could not shake her, although Belle hung about her
tearfully. Russell and Gwen protested, Aunt Rutha looked at her with
sorrowful eyes, and Mr Davis repeated that the very idea was absurd, as
he paced up and down with a strange huskiness in his throat.

* * * * *

'I have come to say good-bye, my lady.'

Tryphosa looked wistfully at the brave, sweet