dly sleeping.

Now began delicious days of convalescence, during which Wallace looked
peacefully out at the coming and going of the two women, each possessing
powerful appeal to him: one the motherly presence which had been denied
him for many years, the other something he had never permitted himself
to hope for--a sweetheart's daily companionship.

He lay there planning his church, and also his home. Into the thought of
a new church came shyly but persistently the thought of a fireside of
his own, with this young girl sitting in the glow of it waiting for him.
His life possessed little romance. He had earned his own way through
school and to college. His slender physical energies had been taxed to
their utmost at every stage of his climb, but now it seemed as though
some blessed rest and peace were at hand.

Meanwhile, the bitter partisans met each other coming and going out of
the gate of the Allen estate, and the goodness of God shone in their
softened faces. Herman was skeptical of its lasting quality, but was
forced to acknowledge that it was a lovely light. He it was who made the
electrical suggestion to rebuild the church as an evidence of good
faith. "You say you're regenerated. Well, prove it--go ahead and
regenerate the church," he said.

The enthusiasm of the neighborhood took flame. It should be done. A
meeting was called. Everybody subscribed money or work. It was a
generous outpouring of love and faith.

It was Herman also who counselled secrecy. "It would be a nice thing to
surprise him," he said. "We'll agree to keep the scheme from him at
home, if you don't give it away."

They set to work like bees. The women came down one day and took
possession with brooms and mops and soap, and while the carpenters
repaired the windows they fell savagely upon the grime of the seats and
floors. The walls of the church echoed with woman's gossip and girlish
laughter. Everything was scoured, from the door-hinges to the altar
rails. New doors were hung and a new stove secured, and then came the
painters to put a new coat of paint on the inside. The cold weather
forbade repainting the outside.

The sheds were rebuilt by men whose hearts glowed with old-time fire. It
was like pioneer days, when "barn-raisings" and "bees" made life worth
while in a wild, stern land. The old men were moved to tears, and the
younger rough men shouted cheery, boisterous cries to hide their own
deep emotion. Hand met hand in heartiness