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and running errands for Kate Rainsforth, always finding a good breakfast waiting for him.

He gradually improved in cleanliness. Stepping into Miss Rainsforth's room, with its shining hardwood floor, its soft rugs, its divan piled with cushions, its little teatable set with fairy cups and saucers, and its pictures on the walls, the boy felt as a pariah might if invited into a palace.

In due time he earned his new suit, gray cloth with gilt buttons, and found shoes and a cap added, for extra work, Miss Kate said, and then he asked to go to Sunday school with her.

One by one, the family was taken captive. Tommy reported his mother one morning as "awful sick," and Kate, first eating her luncheon, sallied forth to investigate for herself. She was able to soothe the poor woman's pain, and to make her a reviving cup of tea, and this kindness proved the entering wedge. Friendly relations having been established, Miss Kate by degrees allowed her visits to have a certain regularity, and on Wednesday mornings the little Shreves were accustomed to watch for the tall, graceful figure swinging down the road at a great pace, and always stopping at their door. Everybody in Dead Man's Flats knew who this visitor was, and that she belonged in a special way to the Shreves. Once she came, a vision of delight, riding a roan pony, and dressed in a dark green habit, with a high hat on her tightly braided hair. She picked up the Shreve twins, first one and then the other, and gave them a ride down the road to the end of the settlement and back, after which nothing would do, but that all the small children clamored in turn to be taken up to the saddle, and finally when a dozen had been gratified, she alighted and let the older ones lifted to her seat by the somewhat sullen, but quite obedient English groom, have the pleasure of feeling a horse move under their weight.

Henceforth Kate Rainsforth was the queen of Dead

Man's Flats. She had taken the hearts of everybody captive. Thus far she had not said a directly religious word; she had simply lived religion before them. Perhaps her sitting down in Mrs. Shreves' kitchen and showing the woman how to mend her man's shirts and darn his stocking, doing part of the mending with her own fingers, was as truly pious an act as anything she might have offered in prayer or song.

There came a day when Kate Rainsforth, kneeling in the midst of a group, called on God audibly, from those forlorn flats. A lad had been hurt in the mill. He was brought home, the damp dews of death beading his forehead. The doctor, hastily summoned, declared there was nothing he could do, the hurt was fatal. Beside the dying boy, his mother and father bent, for once dumb with anguish. He was Tommy Shreves' friend and playmate, and Tommy flew for "the lady," with some dim notion that she could save Jim. She came; she bent over the couch with angelic pity. The face of the dying sought hers with imploring anxiety.

"Pray-for-me-lady," the whitening lips gasped, and

Kate prayed.

"Dear Jesus," she cried, "thou art here; thou seest our sorrow. Take this dear boy home to heaven-forgive his sin. Nobody helped him to be good. He wants thy hand now to lead him over the river and up to the throne. Oh! dear Jesus, pitying Saviour, we all ask thy help in our bitter need. We ask, for Christ's sake," "Amen!" cried the people of Dead Man's Flats, and the passing soul of Jimmy Breck went to the land of the living.

"Mary!"

"Well, John?"

Judge and Mrs. Rainsforth had listened to Pet, who had played Chopin's stormy music and Mendelssohn's liquid fire, till their souls were flooded with melody. The girl had just kissed them good-night.

"That daughter of ours is a very precious thing, my dear. She has brought the personal element to bear on the Shreves. Shreves, Senior, called on me today, and forced on me a five-dollar bill. He said it was conscience money, and I took it, for to have declined would have crushed back his awakening manhood; but that bill shall go into Pet's box, and be returned with interest to Dead Man's Flats." "I wish the flats had a more cheerful name." "They probably will have some day. I am told that the people want to call the place, 'Miss Kate's Gardens.''

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A STALLED CHRISTMAS

NOW began falling just after midday. The sky was leaden, the day dark, with low, hanging clouds and gusts of piercing wind. Though the cars were steam-heated, they were cold, and about four o'clock they were dark. Outside, the great flakes fell steadily, and the engine forged ahead through a gathering storm that promised to be a blizzard.

It was a long passenger train, with one Pullman and a string of day coaches. The conductor came through at five, and the only lady in the Pullman asked him anxiously if they were on time, and if he thought they would reach Blenheim by ten o'clock?

He shook his head. "We're in an awful blizzard, Miss, and the drifts are deep. Looks to me as if we might be stalled a day or two on the road. I presume they'll have the snow-ploughs out soon as the storm stops. Don't be down-hearted. You won't starve. We're not out of provisions."

"But, conductor, this is the day before Christmas!" "Just so! I'd like to see my wife and the kids on Christmas, but I don't reckon on it. We've a lot of youngsters aboard this train. I'm afraid it won't be much of a Christmas for them, poor things!"

He went on, and the young lady settled back in her seat with a sigh of disappointment. Seventy-five miles from home, no more than that, and she had not seen home and father and mother and the other dear ones in six long months. She was a traveling secretary of the Young Women's Christian Association, and accustomed to delays and vicissitudes of the road; but seldom had she so set her whole heart on arriving promptly at a given destination, as

on this particular occasion. The last college she had visited was in a small village, on the line which connected with her own home town, and it had been the farthest western point in her itinerary. As she turned her face eastward, she had been as happy as a bird faring home to its nest. Friends at the college, weather-wise in the tokens of the region, had urged her to stay over a day, but she had been resolute in her determination to have a home Christmas, and had started, her heart singing its undernote of joy with every mile, until, after a threatening morning and a gray afternoon, the night had settled into this blizzard.

She was the single lady passenger in the Pullman. Her companions in the car were three men, two young and one old. The latter, who had been regarding her with interest, came and stood beside her seat.

"I think I am not mistaken," he said; "you are Miss Mary Reynolds, of Blenheim, Judge Reynolds' daughter?" "Yes," she replied.

"Well I am your father's old classmate, Michael Saunders, and am on my way to his house. You may like to read his letter, and then, if you will allow me, I'll sit down by you and tell you how I happened to be running up from Pasadena in the teeth of such a tempest as this which has pounced upon us. I was not sure of you, or I would have spoken sooner. When you were talking with the conductor just now, there were vibrations in your voice that made me think of your mother. We boys were all in love with her, but Dick Reynolds carried off the prize. Your father speaks of you as taking this route home for the holidays."

A little cheered by finding a friend, with whose name she was familiar, although she had never met him before, Mary Reynolds spent the evening more pleasantly than she had anticipated. They had supper, with a cup of steaming coffee, and she went to bed, as the conductor assured her she might as well do, sleeping soundly till morning.

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