e leisurely arose, very late for breakfast.

The problem with the young man now was what to do while he was waiting.
London sights, even those he had not seen before, were tame now. The
newly-found father and sister had already left him. Had it not been a
dream, and was he not now awake to the reality of his old life?

He found himself once more attracted to the Mission headquarters. Elder
Malby was at home that morning. Chester told him the latest development.

"Has she--have they--deserted me, do you think?" asked Chester.

"No--I don't think so," replied the elder thoughtfully. "Lucy did not
impress me as a girl who would do that. I see no reason for such
actions, but perhaps Uncle Gilbert was right. Your father needed to get
away from you to readjust himself to the new condition."

"Well, perhaps,--but what can I now do? this waiting will be terrible."

"You'll come with me this morning. I have some calls to make."

And so all that day Chester remained with Elder Malby, visiting Saints
and investigators, adjusting difficulties, and explaining principles of
the gospel. It was a splendid thing for the young man, this getting his
thoughts from self; and before evening, he had obtained so much of the
missionary spirit that he asked to be permitted to bear his testimony at
the street meeting. "The louder the mob howls and interrupts, the better
for me," he declared. "You remember the other evening when a young
fellow stood within a few feet of you and kept repeating: 'Liars, liars,
from Utah'?"

"Yes; I remember."

"I'd like to talk to that fellow tonight."

So Chester talked at the street-meeting that evening, but to a very
orderly lot of people. After the services, many pressed around him and
asked him questions. One young man walked with him and the elders to the
mission office. They talked on the gospel, and Chester forgot his own
heartache in ministering to another heart hungering for the truth.

The next morning, Chester tried again to remain in bed, but this time
without success. He was up in the gray awakening city, walking in the
park, listening to the birds near by and the rumbling beginnings of
London life. After breakfast, he went again to the Church office.

"You must excuse me for thus being such a bother," he explained to Elder
Malby, "but--but I can't keep away."

"I hope you never will," replied the elder, encouragingly. "It is when
men like you keep away that there is danger."

"What's th