. For he was a power in the Wahoo
Valley. Her friends knew that his word gave the kindergarten the
endorsement of every union there and thus brought to it mothers with
children and with problems as well as children, whom Laura Van Dorn
otherwise never could have reached. The unions made a small donation
monthly to the work which gave them the feeling of proprietorship in the
place and the mothers and children came in self-respect. But if Grant
gave life to the kindergarten, he got more than he gave. For the
restraining hand of Laura Van Dorn always was upon him, and his friends
in the Valley came to realize her friendship for them and their cause.
They knew that many a venture of Grant's Utopia would have been a wild
goose chase but for the wisdom of her counsel. And the two came to rely
upon each other unconsciously.

So in the ugly little building near Dooley's saloon in South Harvey the
two towns met and worked together; and all to heal a broken heart, a
bruised life. From out of the unexplored realm where our dreams are
blooming into the fruit of reality one evening came Mr. Left with this
message: "Whoever in the joy of service gives part of himself to the
vast sum of sacrificial giving that has remained unspent, since man
began to walk erect, is adding to humanity's heritage, is building an
unseen temple wherein mankind is sheltered from its own inhumanity. This
sum of sacrificial giving is the temple not made with hands!"

Now the foundations of that part of the temple not made with hands in
South Harvey, may be said to have been laid and the watertable set on
the day when Laura Van Dorn first laughed the bell-chime laugh of her
girlhood. And that day came well along in the summer. It was twilight
and the Doctor was sitting with his wife and daughter on their east
veranda when Morty Sands came flitting across the lawn like a striped
miller moth in a broad-banded outing suit. He waved gayly to the little
company in the veranda and came up the steps at two bounds, though he
was a man of thirty-eight and just the least bit weazened.

"Well," he said, with his greetings scarcely off his lips, "I came to
tell you I've sold the colt!"

The chorus repeated his announcement as a question.

"Yes, sold the colt," solemnly responded Morty. And then added, "Father
just wouldn't! I tried to get that two hundred in various ways--adding
it to my cigar bill; slipping it in on my bill for raiment at Wright &
Perry's, but fat