ashion plates in which one sees tailors' blocks
taking off their hats to one another. She did not think this was to his
disadvantage; she did not, as yet, think distinctly on the matter at
all. She certainly had no time to deliberate during this particular
conversation, for her companion, having only a few minutes to utilise,
was in a talkative humour. Having spoken of his own work, and made the
more general observations on the difficulties of what is commonly called
the "narrow road," in a quiet, honest way, he said something more
personal.

"I have always felt, Miss Rexford, that it would be a pleasure to me to
see you again, because of the strength and courage which you managed to
infuse into my youthful aspirations; but now that I have seen you, will
you permit me to say that you have been quite unknowingly a help to me
again? A week ago I was half-disheartened of my life because of the
apparent sordidness of its daily duties, and now that I have seen you
giving your life to perform small and unassuming services for others, my
own duties have appeared more sacred. I can't tell you how much I admire
your unselfish devotion to these children. Don't think me rude because I
say it. I often think we are shabby to one another because, in the
strife, we do not frankly say when we are helped by seeing the brave
fight that some one else is making."

They had stopped by the gate, for he was going one way and she and the
little ones another. Two strong young firs, with snow upon their
shelving branches, formed gateposts. The long broad road was white as
their footpath had been.

Sophia answered: "There is no virtue in what I do, for, had I the
choice, I certainly should not be their nursemaid."

"Do you know," he said, "I think when we see life in its reality,
instead of in its seeming, we shall find that the greatest deeds have
been done just because their doers believe that they could not do
otherwise."

"I don't see that. If circumstances shut us up to doing certain things,
there is no virtue in doing them. There may be a little virtue in not
repining at our fate, but not much."

He did not answer for a minute, but broke the curl of a little snowdrift
gently with his stick. Because he did not answer or say good-bye, Sophia
tarried for a moment and then looked up at him.

"Miss Rexford," he replied, "the voice of circumstances says to us just
what we interpret it to say. It is in the _needs must_ of a high nature
th