and He will stop here when I call, and raise my
papa up."

"How will you know Him, dear boy?"

"By His smile and the Transfiguration picture that papa showed me in his
study. But I'll know Him bestest in here," putting his hand on his
breast, "by the love!" raising his lustrous eyes to hers.

"Will you know your papa? Are you sure?"

"My papa!" with wondering ecstatic voice. "My own papa! I shall know him
by the love, and you your little girl. They will not look the same,
'cause Jesus didn't, but they knew Him by their love!"

"Yes?"

"And we'll know them by our love!" lingering fondly on the repetition
with lustrous, far-seeing gaze.

The woman clasped the child to her breast with a passionate embrace,
while rising to meet a supreme hour. (The child must not--shall not be
disappointed and his beautiful faith shattered).

"Phillip!" she said, "listen. The angel sent me to tell you that Jesus
had gone into heaven, and to take you to your papa. Come!"

Without a moment's hesitation he took his messenger's (?) hand and
passed out of the gates, looking not backward by a glance. Expectation
held him silent, while the woman's face was illumined by a great light.
Entering the door of a pleasant house, she passed on through the hall
into the dining-room, saying to the maid: "Bring some food for this dear
child; he has fasted all day."

A pitcher of milk and a plate of bread and honey were set beside a plate
of cold, broiled fish.

"Now I know this is the house," the boy exclaimed exultingly, "for they
had the fish, the bread and the honey! It's all here, just the same, and
he'll come to-night!"

Turning swiftly to the hall, the woman almost flew along the corridor to
meet her husband's steps. Drawing him to one side, she told with rapture
of her encounter and the sweet expectancy below.

"Now, Harold, Heaven has sent us a child, who shall be the angel to roll
away the stone from our grave. His wonderful vision must not be
darkened, neither his faith destroyed. Rise, my husband, to the most
glorious hour of your life. 'I shall know him by the love,' he said. Let
us see that he does."

Returning for the child and extending her hand with a smile, he eagerly
asked, "Will you wash and comb me to meet my papa? It isn't too late
yet, is it?"

The voice was half a sob, but full of hope. The ineffable trust pierced
her heart while reassuring him with swift, tender tones.

"Come, Phillip, we will go to him," she crie