ed the brilliant
strip and sat down in the minister's pew. Wrapping her heavy coat
about her she raised her eyes to the pulpit and a great comfort came.
Then she closed her eyes and the pale, fine face of her uncle seemed to
rise before her.

"If you could only tell me all about it, dear," she whispered. "I
would help any little girl. God knows, but I could help yours so much
easier! Isn't there some way, uncle, that you can make me understand?
Is your place so far away?"

A step fell upon the floor; a shambling, tottering footstep. Miss Lowe
turned and saw Andrew Townley.

"Sit here beside me," she said; "this is a good place to be."

"It's a right good place, ma'am. Seems like we-all can't kill Parson
Starr. I seem to feel like it was only yesterday when he rode up The
Way and sorter settled down like a blessing long o' us-all. Lately, as
I pass by or turn in yere I get a call back to something what he spoke.
To-day it came to me right sharp how he said 'greater love' and then
went on to explanify. I'm right old in years, ma'am, and I'm
doddering, I expect, but I reckon I knows as much as that po' moon
chile o' Hope's. You know Crothers has got him, too, 'mong the wheels,
and the po' lil' boy he comes home all wild and sicklike, and mornings
Hope has to lick him down The Way--he hates that-er-much to go. Come
to-morrow, I'm going down to Crothers' and I'm going to offer up myself
'stead o' that moon chile. When I go to join Parson Starr I'd like to
have something to offer him by way o' excusing myself. 'Parson, I'll
say to him, parson, this I done 'long o' "Greater Love."'"

Marcia Lowe's eyes filled with tears as she took the poor old fumbling
hands in her own.

"Dear, dear friend," she faltered, "God will not need your service. He
has chosen a burnt offering instead of a human sacrifice. The factory
is in ashes now, and for a time, the children may rest."

"Sho'!" murmured Andrew. "Sho' to be sure." Then he wandered back to
that past which held Starr.

"The last time I saw the parson was that-er-day when he went a riding
off to the Gulch to help ole Miss Lanley out o' life. He had lil' Miss
Queenie long o' him--she was the Walden girl as _was_."

Marcia Lowe sat up straighter and again gripped the wandering, wrinkled
hands. Her uncle's letter came vividly to mind and she felt suddenly
that she was being led by old Townley back to clear vision.

"Go on!" she whispered soothingly, seekin