rn
almost to a thread, and felt the clasp of her hand on his as she
guided his finger over the words she was teaching him; and back
through the long years they came to him: "Love one another as I have
loved you." He remembered, too, and smelled again the sweet-mary
leaves that were always kept in his mother's Bible, and saw again
the cards with big coloured birds on them that he had got at
Sunday-school for regular attendance, and which were always kept
between its pages; and while he mused on these things with sudden
tenderness, there came back again the same numb feeling of sorrow
that he had had when he came home, a heartbroken boy, from his
mother's funeral that day so many years ago, and buried his face in
the sweet-mary leaves in the old Bible, and blotted its pages with
his tears; for it seemed more like her than anything else in the
house. He remembered that the undertaker's black mat with its ghastly
white border was still in the front window, where the coffin had
rested, and that the room smelled of camphor.

Pearl saw that memory was busy with him, and said not a word.

At last he spoke. "You're right, Pearl," he said. "Some one did read
it and pass it on to me, and it would have been better for me if I'd
stayed closer to what she taught me."

"Ain't it queer how things turn out?" Pearl exclaimed, after a long
pause. "Now, I've often wondered why Christ had to die--it seemed a
terrible thing to happen to Him, and Him that lovin' and kind--do you
mind how gentle and forgivin' He was?"

Sandy Braden nodded.

"Well, Mr. Donald and I have been talkin' about it quite a bit, and
at first we thought it shouldn't have happened, but now it looks as
if God had to strike hard to make people listen, and to show them
what a terrible thing sin is. Death ain't nothin' to be afraid of,
nor sufferin' either. Sin is the only thing to be real scared of. It
wasn't the rusty nails through His hands that made the dear Lord cry
out in agony--it was the hard hearts of them that done it. Bill
Cavers's death has done good already, for it has closed your bar, and
no one knows how many men and boys that may save; and you're a
different man now, thinking different thoughts, ain't you?"

"I'm a mighty unhappy man," he said sadly. "I'm different that way,
that's a sure thing."

Pearl looked at him closely, as if she would see the inner working of
his mind.

"Mr. Braden, I know just what you're like," she said. "Did you ever
see