n't know the way they were going without one. At last,
I went to the shoemakers, and he made me take off my 'Wellingtons.' He
said no one wore them now, and he shod me, as thou sees, very
comfortably. I like the change."

Then they heard Thora calling them, and Ragnor taking Rahal's hand
hastened to answer the call. She was standing at the foot of the
stairway, and her father kissed her and as he did so whispered--"All
is well, dear one. After dinner, I will tell thee." Then he took her
hand, and the three in one went together to the round table, set so
pleasantly near to the comfortable fireside. Standing there,
hand-clasped, the master said those few words of adoration and
gratitude that turned the white-spread board into a household altar.
Dinner was on the table and its delicious odours filled the room and
quickly set Ragnor talking.

"I will tell you now, what I saw in London," he said. "Ian is a story
good enough to keep until after dinner. I saw him sail away from
Spithead, and he went full of hope and pluck and sure of success. Then
I took the first train back to London. I got lodgings in a nice little
hotel in Norfolk Street, just off the Strand, and London was calling
me all night long."

"Thou could not see much, Father, in one week," said Thora.

"I saw the Queen and the Houses of Parliament, and I saw the Tower of
London and Westminster Abbey and the Crystal Palace. And I have heard
an oratorio, with a chorus of five hundred voices and Sims Reeves as
soloist. I have been to Drury Lane, and the Strand Theatres, to a big
picture gallery, and a hippodrome. My dear ones, the end of one
pleasure was just the beginning of another; in one week, I have lived
fifty years."

Any one can understand how a new flavour was added to the food they
were eating by such conversation. Not all the sauces in Christendom
could have made it so piquant and appetizing. Ragnor carved and ate
and talked, and Rahal and Thora listened and laughed and asked endless
questions, and when the mind enters into a meal, it not only prolongs,
it also sweetens and brightens it. I suppose there may be in every
life two or three festivals, that stand out from all others--small,
unlooked-for meetings, perhaps--where love, hope, wonder and happy
looking-forward, made the food taste as if it had been cooked in
Paradise. Where, at least for a few hours, a mortal might feel that
man had been made only a little lower than the angels.

Now, if any