himself
out of touch with the majority present. They did not, they could not,
look upon the Church as he did. A committee was appointed to investigate
the matter and propose a plan of action at the next meeting in two
weeks. And Philip went home almost bitterly smiling at the little
bulwark which Milton churches proposed to rear against the tide of
poverty and crime and drunkenness and political demagogy and wealthy
selfishness. To his mind it was a house of paper cards in the face of a
tornado.

Saturday night he was out calling a little while, but he came home
early. It was the first Sunday of the month on the morrow, and he had
not fully prepared his sermon. He was behind with it. As he came in, his
wife met him with a look of news on her face.

"Guess who is here?" she said in a whisper.

"The Brother Man," replied Philip, quickly.

"Yes, but you never can guess what has happened. He is in there with
William. And the Brother Man--Philip, it seems like a chapter out of a
novel--the Brother Man has discovered that William is his only son, who
cursed his father and deserted him when he gave away his property. They
are in there together. I could not keep the Brother Man out."

Philip and Sarah stepped to the door of the little room, which was open,
and looked in.

The Brother Man was kneeling at the side of the bed praying, and his son
was listening, with one hand tight-clasped in his father's, and the
tears rolling over his pale face.

CHAPTER XXI.

When the Brother Man had finished his prayer he rose, and stooping over
his son he kissed him. Then he turned about and faced Philip and Sarah,
who almost felt guilty of intrusion in looking at such a scene. But the
Brother Man wore a radiant look. To Philip's surprise he was not
excited. The same ineffable peace breathed from his entire person. To
that peace was now added a fathomless joy.

"Yes," he said very simply, "I have found my son which was lost. God is
good to me. He is good to all His children. He is the All-Father. He is
Love."

"Did you know your son was here?" Philip asked.

"No, I found him here. You have saved his life. That was doing as He
would."

"It was very little we could do," said Philip, with a sigh. He had seen
so much trouble and suffering that day that his soul was sick within
him. Yet he welcomed this event in his home. It seemed like a little
brightness of heaven on earth.

The sick man was too feeble to talk much. The