Dr. Muelenberg sat down amidst a storm of applause and Ralph continued: "The next year a terrible accident occurred and a very mysterious one. A beautiful boy of eight years was brought home with his clothes burned off and his face scarred and torn beyond recognition. Nobody ever knew to a certainty where he got the supply of fireworks which caused his death. His parents certainly did not give them to him. The father is in the house now and will no doubt tell you so if you should desire to know." Cries of "yes, yes, yes, let the father speak!" were heard on all sides. Mr. Cornwallis turned pale and hesitated. "O! do speak father," whispered Ruth, who was sitting by his side in the front row. "If you don't _I must_, but I had rather _you_ would speak. I know it would do you good. Tell them just how you feel about it. You may be the means of saving some other boy's life." Ralph waited serenely. He knew well enough what Ruth was saying, although he could not hear her; for they had talked the matter over and she had promised to be as near as possible, to spirit him on and urge her father to speak instead of speaking herself. He was so elated with the consciousness of the one presence that he hardly realized that her father was on his feet until his agonized voice rang out: "Yes, it is as Mr. Norwood has said. My boy was brought home unrecognizable beyond any words of mine to describe--as though all the agencies of hell had been employed to hurt and disfigure his little body. His once fair face was so gored with powder and blotched with colored fires, that not a vestige of likeness remained." Mr. Cornwallis paused and closed his eyes. The room was deathly still--as still as though the audience had been actually looking at little Laurens' mutilated face. His wife clasped his hand and Ruth whispered: "Have courage, Father! Have courage!" Then he went on more calmly than before: