nting
flames, you have a rare chance of getting at his soul."

"My son is a Christian as well as a gentleman," said Mrs. Anderson. "He
would feel with you in every word you have uttered, Father John. I will
send him a message and ask him if he can meet you here later on
to-night."

"I shall be very pleased to come; and I will if I can," said Father
John. "But," he added, "my time is scarcely ever my own--I am the
servant of my people."

"Your congregation?" said Mrs. Anderson.

"Yes, madam; all sorts and conditions of men. I have no parish; still, I
consider myself God's priest to deliver His message to sorrowful people
who might not receive it from an ordained clergyman."

Mrs. Anderson was silent. Father John's eyes seemed to glow. He was
looking back on many experiences. After a minute he said:

"The consolation is this: 'He that shall endure to the end--shall be
saved.'"

"How very strange that you should speak of that!" said Mrs. Anderson.

"Why so, madam? Don't you believe it?"

"Oh, indeed I do! But I'll tell you why I think it strange. There is a
little boy--the child who was also rescued from the fire--in my house.
He was very ill at first; he is now better, but not well enough to leave
his bedroom. I was anxious about him for a time, but he is, I thank God,
recovering. Now, this child went on murmuring that text during his
delirium--a strange one to fall from the lips of so young a child."

"Indeed, yes, madam. I am most deeply interested. I am glad you have
mentioned the little boy. Connie told me about him last night. I am
sorry that in my anxiety for her I forgot him."

"You could never forget little Ronald if you were to see him," said Mrs.
Anderson. "I don't think I ever saw quite so sweet a child. His
patience, his courage, and I think I ought to add his faith, are
marvelous."

"He cannot be nicer or better than a little boy of the name of Giles who
lives in a very poor attic near my own room," said the preacher.

"I wonder," said Mrs. Anderson after a pause, "if you could spare time
to come up and see little Ronald with me."

"I should be only too glad," said Father John.

So Mrs. Anderson took the preacher upstairs, and very softly opened the
door, beyond which stood a screen. She entered, followed by the
preacher, into a pretty room, which had lovely photographs hanging on
the walls, that bore on childhood in different aspects. There was the
summer child--the child of happiness--pla