e" that evening and would
take them to a certain theater where a children's play was being
produced.

"To celebrate what?" they noisily asked him, but he kept his joyous
secret to himself, and they hurried away to get ready to go out.

While he was waiting for them in the parlor, Harold came down from his
room, a book under his arm, and John invited him to go along. But the
boy only smiled and held out the book, which was the _Life of Wesley_.
"I have to study this to-night," he said. "I am to be examined on the
pioneers of our Church. You know we do not believe in theaters, as a
rule, but I understand that this child's play has a good moral. I'm sure
it won't do any great harm, and the silly things are up-stairs dancing
with joy."

The children liked the play, the people, the lights, the music, and John
sat feasting on their animated faces. Once, however, a pang of keen pain
shot through him at the thought that he was having a pleasure that
could not be shared with the little toiling woman who had once been his
wife. If all had gone well, he might have brought Tilly to the great
city and lavished the results of his work and ability on her. As it was,
she would perhaps remain in the backwoods for the rest of her life. She
would no doubt marry-- Here he shuddered and tried to banish the thought
from his mind.

After the play he took his little guests to an attractive cafe and they
had some ice-cream and cakes. While they ate they chattered vivaciously
about the plot and characters of the drama. Betty displayed good
critical ability, and John saw from Dora's face that she was seeing her
new friend in a fresh light and no doubt determining to emulate her in
this, as in other things. He told himself that that quality in his
foster-sister would help her enormously in acquiring the social culture
which he himself had missed in his youth.

Little Minnie was becoming sleepy. Her eyelids were drooping, and John
started home with them. For a while he led Minnie by the hand, and then,
noting her lagging steps, he took her into his arms and carried her the
rest of the way. He felt her soft cheek settle down against his, and
from her warm, moist breathing he knew that she was asleep. He liked the
sensation caused by the limp form in his embrace. Betty and Dora walked
by his side. Young as he was, he felt a sort of paternal interest in all
three of them.

Reaching home, he bore the sleeping child up to her little white bed in