"You would still value my friendship if I should do some awful wicked thing?" she asked. "Suppose I should leave the church, or run away, or steal, or kill somebody, or do something real terrible?" Dick smiled and shook his head. "Nothing you could ever do would make me change. But tell me," he added; "you're not thinking of giving up your church work, are you?" "Why do you ask?" said she quickly. "You'll pardon me won't you, if I tell you. I can't help noticing that you are not so much at the meetings of the Society as you were; and that--well--you don't seem--somehow--to take the interest you did. And you have given up your class at the South Broadway Mission." "How do you know that?" "I asked Brother Cameron if there was any place for me out there, and he said, yes, that your class was without a teacher now." "So you are to have my boys at the Mission. Oh, I am so glad." And her eyes filled. "Don't let them forget me altogether, Mr. Falkner." "But won't you come back and teach them yourself?" "No, no; you do not understand; I must give it up. But you'll do better than I anyway, because you can get closer to them. You understand that life so well." "Yes," he said, very soberly. "I do understand that life very well indeed." "Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to pain you." She laid her hand timidly on his arm. "I admire you so much for what you have overcome, and that's what makes me say that you can do a great deal, now that you are through with it. You must forget those things that are behind, you know." "Yes," murmured Dick, "those things _are_ behind, and I can do all things through Him; but may I also have the help of thinking of you as my friend?" Amy blushed again. "Please notice," said Dick, quietly, "I said of _thinking_ of you as my friend." The girl put out her hand. "Mr. Falkner, just as long as you wish, you may think of me as your friend. But I want you to pray for me, that I may be worthy your friendship, for I too, have my battles to fight." And she smiled. "Good-bye. You were so funny when you fell off the stool that day, but I like you better as you are now." Then suddenly the room grew dark and close, and as Dick turned again to his work, he heard a voice within whispering, "Only in your thoughts can she be your friend." Adam Goodrich was just coming out of the express office, which was in the same block as the printing establishment, when he saw his daughter leave the building and cross the street. All that day the incident persisted in forcing itself upon his mind, and that night, after the younger members of the family had retired, and he and Mrs Goodrich were alone, he laid aside his evening paper and asked, "What was Amy doing at Udell's place today?" "She went to have some calling cards printed. Why, what made you ask?"