safe in its
keeping.

As the last words of the song died away, he opened the door and
walked in. If there was surprise on the faces of many, he did not see
it. If it was a departure from the usual custom, he never stopped to
consider it. The evangelist who had charge of the service stood for a
final word of exhortation, asking if there were not many who could
make that song their own, and offer it as a prayer of consecration.

It was never quite clear to Alec afterward just what he said then.
But as he told of the struggle he had just been through, and in
broken sentences made a public confession of his faith, eyes grew
dim, and hearts already touched by the song were strangely thrilled
and stirred. Afterward the members came crowding round him with a
warm welcome, and he carried away with him the remembrance of many a
hearty hand-clasp. One of them was Mr. Windom's. He rarely attended
the young people's meetings, and to-night had come only to hear his
daughter sing. If he had had any misgivings as to the boy's sincerity
of purpose before, every doubt was cleared away as he listened to his
manly confession of faith, and looked into his happy face, almost
transformed with the hope that illuminated it.

It was Thanksgiving Day. Alec, home on his first vacation, stood in
front of the open fire, watching Philippa set the table for their
little feast. He had talked late the night before, and told of the
many changes that had taken place during the last two months. He was
in the office now, and his salary had been raised sufficiently to
enable him to take a room in a comfortable boarding-house. Since his
conversion, Mr. Windom had taken several occasions to show Alec that
he trusted him implicitly.

Radiant in her joy at having her brother home again, Philippa kept
breaking into little snatches of song whenever there was a pause in
the conversation. She thought she had never known such a happy
Thanksgiving.

"How nice and homelike it all is!" Alec exclaimed, sniffing the
savoury odours that rushed in from the kitchen, of turkey and mince
turnovers, whenever Aunt Eunice opened the oven door. "And how good
it seems to hear you singing like that, Flip!"

"Do you remember the day you told me that it set your teeth on edge
to hear me singing that hymn?" asked Philippa, laughingly.

"Yes, but that was because I was all out of tune myself. Everything
is different now. Since I've given up trying to do my own piloting,
it se