'It will follow a leader,' came the soft reply, 'who dances well and pipes the true old music so that it can hear. Belief inspires it always. And that Belief you have.' There was a curious vibration in his voice; he spoke from his heart, and his heart was evidently moved. 'I wonder when it came to me, then, and how?' The Vicar turned and faced him where they stood beneath the lime trees. Their scent was pouring out as from phials uncorked by the stars. 'It came,' he caught the answer that thrilled with earnestness, 'when you saw the lame boy on the village hill and cried. As long ago as that it came.' His mind, as he listened, became a plot of fresh-turned earth the Head Gardener filled with flowers. A mass of covering stuff the years had laid ever thicker and thicker was being shovelled away. The flowers he saw being planted there were very tiny ones. But they would grow. A leaf from some far-off rocky mount of olive trees dropped fluttering through the air and marvellously took root and grew. He felt for a moment the breath of night air that has been tamed by an eastern sun. He saw a group of men, bare-headed, standing on the slopes, and in front of them a figure of glory teaching little, simple things they found it hard to understand.... 'You have the big and simple things alive in you,' the voice carried on his pictured thought among the flowers. 'In your heart they lie all waiting to be used. Nothing can smother them. Only-you must give them out.' 'If only I knew how--!' 'Keep close to the children,' sifted the strange answer through the fruit-trees; 'the world is a big child. And catch it when it lies asleep--not thinking of itself,' he whispered. 'The time is so short--' 'At forty you stand upon the threshold of life, with values learned and rubbish cleared away. So many by that time are already dead--in heart. I envy your opportunities ahead. You have learned already one foundation truth--the grandeur of toil and the insignificance of acquisition. The other foundation thing is even simpler--you have a neighbour. Now, with your money to give as flowers, and your Belief to steer you straight, you have the world before you. And--keep close to the children.' 'Before there are none left,' added Rogers under his breath. But the other heard the words and instantly corrected him-- 'Children of any age, and wherever you may find them.' And they turned slowly and made their way in silence across the soaking lawn, entering the house by the drawing-room window. 'Good-night,' the old man said, as he lit his candle and led him to his room; 'and pleasant, happy, inspiring dreams.' He seemed to say it with some curious, heartfelt meaning in the common words. He disappeared slowly down the passage, shading the candle with one hand to pick his way, and Rogers watched him out of sight, then turned and entered his own room, closing the door as softly as possible behind him.