Philip, as his habit was, lay down on
the couch in front of the open fire until the day's excitement had
subsided a little. It was almost the only evening in the week when he
gave himself up to complete rest of mind and body.

He had been lying there about a quarter of an hour when Mrs. Strong, who
had been moving a plant back from one of the front windows and had been
obliged to raise a curtain, stepped back into the room with an
exclamation.

"Philip! There is some one walking back and forth in front of the house!
I have heard the steps ever since we came home. And just now I saw a man
stop and look in here. Who can it be?"

"Maybe it's the man with the burglar's lantern come back to get his
knife," said Philip, who had always made a little fun of that incident
as his wife had told it. However, he rose and went over to the window.
Sure enough, there was a man out on the sidewalk looking straight at the
house. He was standing perfectly still.

Philip and his wife stood by the window looking at the figure outside,
and, as it did not move away, at last Philip grew a little impatient and
went to the door to open it and ask the man what he meant by staring
into people's houses in that fashion.

"Now, do be careful, won't you?" entreated his wife, anxiously.

"Yes, I presume it is some tramp or other wanting food. There's no
danger, I know."

He flung the door wide open and called out in his clear, hearty voice:

"Anything you want, friend? Come up and ring the bell if you want to get
in and know us, instead of standing there on the walk catching cold and
making us wonder who you are."

In response to this frank and informal invitation the figure came
forward and slowly mounted the steps of the porch. As the face came into
view more clearly, Philip started and fell back a little.

It was not because the face was that of an enemy, nor because it was
repulsive, nor because he recognized an old acquaintance. It was a face
he had never to his knowledge seen before. Yet the impulse to start back
before it seemed to spring from the recollection of just such a
countenance moving over his spirit when he was in prayer or in trouble.
It all passed in a second's time and then he confronted the man as a
complete stranger.

There was nothing remarkable about him. He was poorly dressed and
carried a small bundle. He looked cold and tired. Philip, who never
could resist the mute appeal of distress in any form, reached out his