ready
to hear a sleepy child's voice say its evening prayers. In his heart
there flamed the love for the child that was beckoning him into love for
every sentient thing. And as Laura Van Dorn, bride of Thomas of that
name, heard the whistle, her being was flooded with a love high and
marvelous, washing in from the infinite love that moves the universe and
carrying her soul in aspiring thrills of joy out to ride upon the
mysterious currents that we know are not of ourselves, and so have
called divine.

In the morning, in the early gray of morning, when Grant Adams rose to
make the fire for breakfast, he found his father, sitting by the kitchen
table, half clad as he had risen from a restless bed. Scrawled sheets of
white paper lay around him on the floor and the table. He said sadly:

"She can't come, Grant--she can't come. I dreamed of her last night; it
was all so real--just as she was when we were young, and I thought--I
was sure she was near." He sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "But
they've looked for her--all of them have looked for her. She knows I'm
calling--but she can't come." The father fumbled the papers, rubbed his
gray beard, and shut his fine eyes as he shook his head, and whispered:
"What holds her--what keeps her? They all come but her."

"What's this, father?" asked Grant, as a page closely written in a fine
hand fluttered to the floor.

"Oh, nothing--much--just Mr. Left bringing me some message from Victor
Hugo. It isn't much."

But the Eminent Authority who put it into the Proceedings of the
Psychological Society laid more store by it than he did by the scraps
and incoherent bits of jargon which pictured the old man's lonely grief.
They are not preserved for us, but in the Proceedings, on page 1125, we
have this from Mr. Left:

"The vice of the poor is crass and palpable. It carries a quick and
deadly corrective poison. But the vices of the well-to-do are none the
less deadly. To dine in comfort and know your brother is starving; to
sleep in peace and know that he is wronged and oppressed by laws that we
sanction, to gather one's family in contentment around a hearth, while
the poor dwell in a habitat of vice that kills their souls, to live
without bleeding hearts for the wrong on this earth--that is the vice of
the well-to-do. And so it shall come to pass that when the day of
reckoning appears it shall be a day of wrath. For when God gives the
poor the strength to rise (and they are waxi