I guess," he laughed. "But I won't
count the evening wasted--even leaving out the pleasure I have had--if I
have helped to open your eyes, ever so little, to the light."

"Oh, you have ... and mine, too," answered Rose. "I mean to think
_hard_, but if I get very puzzled, I'll come to see you about it. But,
anyway, I mean to be God's little child all my life--as well as a
trained nurse. And I mean to help Dr. Mac, always, to be a child of our
heavenly Father, too," she added, simply. As Donald arose to bid the
minister good-night, his eyes were a little misty, for the girl's
unaffected declaration had moved him more deeply than he had ever been
moved in his life.

CHAPTER XI

ADOPTION BY BLOOD

For a little while Donald lay awake under the eaves in his loft room,
but his sleeplessness was the result neither of worry or nervous
tension. His mind, indeed, was unusually contented. None of the
disturbing thoughts of difficult tasks on the morrow assailed it; he
felt only an unwonted peace and contentment. The impressions left by the
evening's talk still swayed and uplifted his soul. Yet, deep within his
consciousness, there was a vague realization that it would be long, if
ever, before he could hope to pattern his life by the precepts of the
man of God who had so stirred him. Happily, he could not foresee how
soon mortal passions were to repossess him wholly, to blot out the new
spiritual light which was his.

In her little room below, Rose, too, lay awake, her youthful mind
teeming with wonderful, new ideas garnered from the seeds sown by the
"reverend"; but the insistent call of slumber to her tired, healthy body
in time lulled her busy thoughts to rest.

* * * * *

"Oh, Doctor Mac, come _quick_! Grandpappy's hurted."

Sound asleep, and even then visioning the girl whose terrified voice
suddenly wove itself into the figment of his dream, when the first word
fell upon his ears, Donald was wide awake, and he was half out of bed
before the last was spoken.

He paused only long enough to draw on his hunting breeches and thrust
his bare feet into their tramping boots--which left a hiatus of
unstockinged muscular calf--hurriedly dropped down the ladder, and in
two strides was out of doors.

Near the wood pile stood the old mountaineer, on his countenance
expression of mingled pain and chagrin, the latter dominating. His right
hand still grasped the keen-edged axe, while Rose s