ptly, "dreams are not enough."

"No," he replied, as simply as if we had been talking of it, "dreams are
just one of the sources of power ... but doing is enough."

I said weakly--perhaps because it was a morning of chill and fog, when a
woman may feel her forlornest, look her plainest, know herself for dust:
"But then--what about everybody's heart?"

"Don't you know?" Abel asked, and even after those months in Friendship
Village I did not know.

"... use it up making some little corner better--better--better by the
width of a hand..." said Abel. "As I could do," he added after a moment,
"if I could get my chapel in the hills. Do you know, I've written to
Mrs. Proudfit about it at last. I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it!"

We came to the rise of the hill, where, but for the fog, we might have
looked back on the village, already long astir. To the left, within its
line of field stone and whitewashed rails and wild roses, the cemetery
lay, like another way of speech. A little before us the mist hid the
tracks, but we heard the whistle of the Fast Mail, coming in from the
end of the earth.

"Ah, well, I want some wild roses," said I--since a woman may always
take certain refuges from life.

"I'm coming back about noon," Abel told me; "I'll bring you a thousand."

He drew up Major Mary, and we sat silent, watching for the train. And
the Something which found in Abel its unfailing channel came
companioning us, and caught me up so that I longed unspeakably to be
about the Business which Abel and Calliope followed, and followed before
all else.

But when I would have said more, I noted on Abel's face some surprise,
and then I myself felt it. For the Fast Mail from the East, having as
usual come roaring through Friendship station with but an instant's
stop, was now slowing at the draw. Through the thick white we perceived
it motionless for a breath, and then we heard it beat away again.

I wonder now, remembering, how I can have known with such singing
confidence what was in store for me. It is certain that I did know, even
though in the mist I saw no one alight. But as if at a summons I bade
Abel let me descend, and somehow I gave him good-by; and I recall that I
cried back to him:--

"Abel! You _said_ the sky can fall and give one dreams."

"Yes," he answered. "Dreams to use in one's corner."

But I knew then and I know now that Abel's dreams flowed in his blood,
and that when he gave them to his corner of