hing yet. You ought to
hear Court tell the story of his death. It bowled me over when I heard
it, and everywhere he tells it men believe! Wherever Paul Courtland
tells that story Stephen Marshall will be preaching."

Mother Marshall stooped over and kissed Pat's astonished forehead. "You
have made me a proud and happy mother to-day, laddie! I'm glad you
came."

Pat, suddenly conscious of himself, stumbled, blushing, to his feet.
"Thanks, Mother! It's been great! Believe me, I sha'n't ever forget it.
It's been like looking into heaven for this poor bum. If I'd had a home
like this I might have stood some chance of being like your Steve,
instead of just a roughneck athlete."

"Yes, I know," smiled Mother Marshall. "A dear, splendid roughneck,
doing a big work with the boys! Paul has told me all about it. You're
preaching a lot of sermons yourself, you know, and going to preach some
more. Now shall we go down? It's time for evening prayers."

So Pat put his strong arm around Mother Marshall's plump waist, drew one
of her hands in his, and together they walked down to the parlor, where
Bonnie was already playing "Rock of Ages." It seemed to Pat the kingdom
of heaven could be no sweeter, for this was the kingdom come on earth.
When he and Courtland were up-stairs in their room, and all the house
quiet for the night, Pat spoke:

"I've sized it up this way, Court. There ain't any dying! That's only an
imaginary line like the equator on the map. It's heaven or hell, both
now and hereafter! We can begin heaven right now if we want to, and live
it on through; and that's what these folks have done. You don't hear
them sitting here fighting like the professors used to do, about whether
there's a heaven or a hell! They know there's both. They're living in
one and pulling folks out of the other, hard as they can; and they're
too blamed busy, following out the Bible and seeing it prove itself, to
listen to all the twaddle to prove that it ain't so! I sure am darned
glad you gave me the tip and I got a chance to get in on this little old
game, for it's the best game I know, and the best part about it is it
lasts forever!"

Tennelly was away all that summer, doing the fashionable summer resorts
and taking a California trip. The next winter he spent in Washington.
Uncle Ramsey had him at work, and Courtland ran on him in his office
once, when he took a hurried trip down to see what he could do for the
eight-hour bill. Tennelly loo