in the silence which she kept, answering in her
face only, at the first, that peculiar greeting. Perhaps any woman,
who had had no dream, would have found other response as difficult.

"I am going back to Brickfields to-morrow. I am more eager than
ever to get the home finished there, for those who are waiting for
its shelter. I have had a busy day,--a busy evening; it has not been
a _still_ reverie in which I have seen you. In this last half hour,
I have been with Vireo. He has found a woman for me who can be a
directress of work; can manage the sewing-room. A good woman, too,
who will _mother_--not 'matron'--the girls. I have bought five
machines. They will make their own garments first; then they will
work for pay, some hours each day, or a day or two every week,--in
turn. That money will be their own. The rest of the time will be due
to the commonwealth. There will be a farm-kitchen, where they will
cook--and learn to cook well--for the farm hands; they will wash and
iron; they will take care of fruit and poultry. As they learn the
various employments, they will take their place as teachers to
new-comers; we shall keep them busy, and shall make a life around
them, that will be worth their laboring for; as God makes all the
beauty of the world for us to live in, in compensation for the
little that He leaves it needful for us to do. There is where I
think our privilege comes in, after the similitude of his; to
supplement broadly that which shall not hinder honest and
conditional exertion. I have been longing to tell you about it; I
have had a vision of you in the midst of my work and talk; I have
had a feeling of you this evening, waiting just so and there; I had
to come. I went to see your Mary Moxall, Miss Desire."

"In the midst of all you had to do!"

"Was it not a part? 'All in the day's work' is a good proverb."

"What did you say to her?"

"I asked her if she would come up into the country with my sister,
to a home among great, still, beautiful hills, and take care of her
baby, and some flowers."

"It was like asking her to come home--to God!"

"Yes,--I think it was asking her God's way. How can we, standing
among all the helps and harmonies of our lives, ask them to come
straight up to Him,--His invisible unapproachable Self,--out of the
terrible darkness and chaos of theirs? There are no steps."

"Tell me more about the steps you have been making--in the hills.
You said 'flowers.'"

"Yes; there wi