d ter wash an' not shrink in the rinsin'. I'm not a'goin ter be
left behind, without I hev changed my name."

Dyce kept the rooms in spotless order and waited upon the guests.

"Dear friend," said Evadne one morning, as she watched her putting
loving touches to the dining table, "you take as much trouble as if you
expected Jesus Christ to be here!"

"So I does, Miss 'Vadney," she answered simply, "I never feels
comfortable 'cept when dere's a place fer de Lord," and Evadne answered,
"Dear Dyce, you make me feel ashamed!"

Many and varied were the guests who partook of their hospitality. The
famine which no material wealth can alleviate is not confined to the
dwellings of the poor. Hearts starve beneath coverings of velvet and
loneliness often rides in a carriage. Many were the patients whom the
world counted "well to do" that John Randolph sent to Evadne to be
comforted. There was nothing to make them suspect that the keen
intuition of the young physician had read their secret. 'The Willows'
was simply a charming retreat where he sent them to try his favorite
tonics of sunlight and oxygen; they never dreamed they were to be the
recipients of favors which would not be rendered in the bill.

It was a beautiful fellowship in which they were banded together, for
the Hawthornes had returned and were learning to find their pleasure in
doing their Father's will. Dick True was in the brotherhood also, and
never came home for his vacations without bringing with him "some fellow
who needed a taste of love," and the overgrown boys would glory in their
strength as they lifted Miss Diana from the carriage after a delightful
drive, and learn a strange gentleness as they were unconsciously
trained in the little deeds of chivalry which bespeak a true man.

Soon after Evadne's dream had materialized John Randolph had sent her a
dainty little equipage to help on the work.

"You are too kind!" she cried, as she thanked him, "too generous!"

"Can we be that?" he asked, "when we are giving to a King? It is a
theory of mine that a drive in the country with the right companion is
better than exordiums. These poor souls have never learned to see
'sermons in stones, books in the running brooks, and God in everything.'
You must give me the pleasure of a little share in your beautiful work,
my friend."

"A little share!" echoed Evadne. "Is it possible that you do not know,
Doctor Randolph, how much of it belongs to you!"

The beauty of