The wind began to stir the leaves--tentative gusts: swirling eagerly through the park. There was a flash--an instant clap of thunder, breaking overhead, rumbling angrily away. Two men ran past. Great drops of rain splashed on the pavement. "Let us go home," the boy said. "Not yet!" she protested. "Oh, not yet!" He escaped from her arms. "Don't go, Richard!" she whimpered. "Please don't, dear! Not yet. I--I'm--oh, I'm not ready to say good-night. Not yet!" He took her hand. "Come, mother!" he said. "Not yet!" He dropped her hand--sprang away from her with a startled little cry. "Oh, mother," he moaned, "don't you want me?" "Home?" she asked, blankly. "Home--with me?" "Oh, yes, mother! Let me go home. Quick I Let us go.... The curate says I know best. I went straight to him--yesterday--and told him. And he said I was wiser than he.... And I said good-bye. Don't send me back. For, oh, I want to go home--with you!" She opened her arms. At that moment a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the world. For the first time the child caught sight of her face--the sweet, real face of his mother: now radiant, touched by the finger of the Good God Himself. "Is it you?" he whispered. "I am your mother." He leaped into her arms--found her wet eyes with his lips. "Mother!" he cried. "My son!" she said. He turned again to the flaming cross--a little smile of defiance upon his lips. But the defiance passed swiftly: for it was then revealed to him that his mother was good; and he knew that what the cross signified would continue with him, wherever he went, that goodness and peace might abide within his heart. Hand in hand, while the thunder still rolled and the rain came driving with the wind, they hurried away towards the Box Street tenement.... Let them go! Why not? Let them depart into their world! It needs them. They will glorify it. Nor will they suffer loss. Let them go! Love flourishes in the garden of the world we know. Virtue is forever in bloom. Let them go to their place! Why should we wish to deprive the unsightly wilderness of its flowers? Let the tenderness of this mother and son continue to grace it! [Illustration: Tailpiece to _The Last Appeal_] THE END