"Not at all strange. It did not occur to me till this morning, and I have just written a message to Dr. B-, the superintendent, asking to have a surgeon sent to examine the case. I have myself been an inmate of the Home, and have the most entire confidence in the care and skill she would receive." "Will they send so far, Mr. Angus? I mean, will there not be great expense? Excuse me, but I would advise another plan. Mary is a great favorite of mine; indeed, I am under obligations to her. There is an eminent surgeon in the next town, whom I will take to see her this very day. If he gives us hope, I will go to the hospital at once on my return to the city. I only wish I had thought of it years ago." A curious expression on Mr. Angus's face startled Marion, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, which was strangely familiar to her. It was as though he had said,—"You are taking the matter out of my hands with a vengeance." Marion laughed aloud. "Don't think me officious in meddling with your plan," she urged. "I'm a teacher, you know, and accustomed to give orders." "I shall at least claim the pleasure, Miss Howard, of bearing the expense necessary for placing her in the Home." "I'll see about that." Marion gave one of those arch glances which brought her dimples into full play. When she smiled, it was like a child's face, pure and fresh, and sweet and loving. For one moment, as he gazed, Mr. Angus forgot his burden. There might yet be something bright for him in life. With a deep sigh he shouldered his burden again, and this time it seemed weightier than ever before. They walked in silence for a time, the young lady puzzling herself to account for the strange associations connected with that peculiar expression on Mr. Angus's face which had so startled her. Somehow it was connected with the Home for the Sick. Rousing herself, and forgetting that his thoughts had not followed hers, she asked,— "Is it long since you were an inmate?" "Do you mean of the hospital?" "Yes." "It is five years this very month. It was there I was healed not only in the body, but the soul. Never did any poor mortal need a divine physician more than I did. Words cannot express my gratitude that a merciful Father directed me to that spot. The faithful chaplain found me weighed to the ground, and persuaded me to allow an Almighty Arm to be placed beneath me. Pardon me," he added, suddenly interrupting himself, "I did not remember that to a stranger this must be a wearisome story. I am not used to forget myself in this way." He turned toward her a face drawn with pain, to meet eyes full of sympathy, and when she murmured softly the words, "I am not a stranger, I am a friend," his feelings almost overcame him.