n to be
demanded of him.

Then, although having heard the story many times from her crippled
father's lips, but never weary of the repetition, the child's eyes
would grow round and very solemn in preparation for her next and
inevitable question:

"And did Herr Wilner _die_, daddy?"

"Yes, dear."

"Tell me!"

"Well, it was when I was a missionary in the Trebizond district, and
your mother and I went----"

"And _me_, daddy? And _me_, too!"

"Yes; you were a little baby in arms. And we all went to Gallipoli to
attend the opening of a beautiful new school which was built for
little Mohammedan converts to Christianity----"

"Did I see those little Christian children, daddy?"

"Yes, you saw them. But you are too young to remember."

"Tell me. Don't stop!"

"Then listen attentively without interrupting, Rue: Your mother and
you and I went to Gallipoli; and my friend, Herr Wilner, who had been
staying with us at a town called Tchardak, came along with us to
attend the opening of the American school.

"And the night we arrived there was trouble. The Turkish people, urged
on by some bad officials in the Sanjak, came with guns and swords and
spears and set fire to the mission school.

"They did not offer to harm us. We had already collected our converts
and our personal baggage. Our caravan was starting. The mob might not
have done anything worse than burn the school if Herr Wilner had not
lost his temper and threatened them with a dog whip. Then they killed
him with stones, there in the walled yard."

At this point in the tragedy, the eagerly awaited and ardently desired
shivers passed up and down the child's back.

"O--oh! Did they kill him _dead_?"

"Yes, dear."

"Was he a martyr?"

"In a way he was a martyr to his duty, I suppose. At least I gather so
from his diary and from what he once told me of his life."

"And then what happened? Tell me, daddy."

"A Greek steamer took us and our baggage to Trebizond."

"And what then?"

"And then, a year later, the terrible massacre at our Trebizond
mission occurred----"

That was what the child was waiting for.

"I know!" she interrupted eagerly. "The wicked Turks and the cruel
Kurds did come galloping and shouting 'Allah!' And all the poor,
converted people became martyrs. And God loves martyrs, doesn't He?"

"Yes, dear----"

"And then they did kill all the poor little Christian children!"
exclaimed the child excitedly. "And they did cut you with sw