would not forgive--he
had been bitterly wronged, and he would never forgive--he had done
what was right, and what had he got for it? He tried to summon back
to him the anger that had kept alive his resolve to stay away from
home. Instead of anger and bitterness he found his, heart swelling
with the old love for the One who, the same night that he was
betrayed, took bread and broke it, saying: "Take, eat; this is my
body, which was broken for you."

Some one was praying--it was Mr. Burrell--every word came to Bud
clearly.

"Dear Lord," the minister prayed, "be one with us to-day, and grant
that the great appeal which Thou dost make in the broken body and the
shed blood may find an answer in every heart that hears. Compel us
with it to consecrate our lives to Thee. If there is any root of
bitterness in our lives, let us bring it to where the shadow of the
Cross may fall upon it. Oh, dear Lord, bless all those who have
wandered from Thee. Bless the dear boy of our prayers who may have
wandered far, but who, we believe, will never be deaf to the call of
the Spirit. We praise Thee for prayers answered--for sick ones
healed--for lives redeemed--and we humbly crave Thy mercy for us all.
Amen."

What strange power was in these words to make Bud Perkins suddenly
realize that only one thing mattered? He opened the door and walked
in. The people heard the door open and some one come quickly toward
the front. They saw the minister step down from the platform and into
the aisle, where he clasped a black-bearded youth in his arms. For a
full minute no one spoke; then Roderick Ray, the Scottish Covenanter,
broke into singing:

"O dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved to sin no more."

What a scene of rejoicing was in the schoolhouse that dark March day!
Roderick Ray slapped Bud on the back again and again, crying:
"Wonderful! Wonderful!" Mr. Perkins hung on to Bud's arm as if he
were afraid he might lose him again, and told him over and over again
what a time he had been having with hired help. "There's nothing like
your own you bet." Even George Steadman shook hands with Bud, and
told him he was glad to see him back again.

While Mrs. Cavers, in answer to his eager inquiry, was telling Bud
all about Libby Anne's illness, and the great kindness of his father
and mother and Martha Pearl Watson whispered to Mr. Perkins: "Now's
the time to clear up B