re they must hear,--when they had to leave Greenley Street and go
into that cheap little lodging-room, and she had to stay away from
her mother all day long?

She remembered the time when she had thought it would be nice to
have a "few things;" nice to earn her own living; to be one of the
"Other Girls."

CHAPTER XXXI.

CHOSEN: AND CALLED.

Desire Ledwith found nobody at home at Mr. Vireo's. The maid-servant
said that she could not tell when they would return. Mrs. Vireo was
at her mother's, and she believed they would not come back to tea.

Desire knew that it was one of the minister's chapel nights. She
went away, up Savin Street, disappointed; wishing that she could
have sent instant help to Mary Moxall, who, she thought, could not
withstand the evangel of Hilary Vireo's presence. It is so sure that
nothing so instantly brings the heavenly power to bear upon a soul
as contact with a humanity in which it already abides and rules. She
wanted this girl to touch the hem of a garment of earthly living,
with which it had clothed itself to do a work in the world. For the
Christ still finds and puts such garments on to walk the earth; the
seamless robes of undivided consecration to Himself.

As Desire crossed to Borden Street, and went on up the hill, there
came suddenly to her mind recollection of the Sunday noon, years
since, when she had walked over that same sidewalk with Kenneth
Kincaid; when he had urged her to take up Mission work, and she had
answered him with her girlish bluffness, that "she thought he did
not approve of brokering business; it was all there, why should they
not take it for themselves? Why should she set up to go between?"
She thought how she had learned, since, the beautiful links of
endless ministry; the prismatic law of mediation,--that there is no
tint or shade of spiritual being, no angle at which any soul catches
the Divine beam, that does not join and melt into the next above and
the next below; that the farther apart in the spectrum of humanity
the red of passion and the violet of peace, the more place and need
for every subdivided ray, to help translate the whole story of the
pure, whole whiteness.

She remembered what she had said another time about "seeing blue,
and living red." She was thinking out by the type the mystery of
difference,--the broken refractions that God lets his Spirit fall
into,--when, looking up as she was about to pass some person, she
met the face of