"You see, nurse, it was sent me by a little gal--the minister's little gal. I was pretty far gone a year ago, and if ever God sent an angel into this world to help lift up a poor wretch of a man, it was when that little gal started to be my friend. And when them little hands cut out the heart for my Valentine and sent it to me, and I read 'Ruth loves John,' I felt as good as if I'd been sent a fortune." The news of John's sickness had its effect on Ruth's nightly prayer: "Please, God, make John better, because he's very sick. For Jesus' sake. Amen." John's sickness was not unto death. Slowly he regained health and courage, and as soon as he was able to work he secured a position in a city factory. Much of his leisure is being given to City Mission Work. He has often been seen on a street corner joining in an open-air service. Not long ago he was telling a crowd of men what the Gospel had done for him. "Say, fellows, when I think of it--think of what I was--I just know He's able for anything. I'm ashamed of myself, but I'm proud of Him." As he finished his testimony a workman in the same factory, who was standing at the rear of the crowd, called out, "Yes, and John's the decentest feller in the factory, so he is." The red heart has faded almost to a brown. It no longer occupies its place on the mirror. A stranger picking up John Gage's Bible might wonder why a soiled and worn bit of paper in the shape of a heart should be pasted on the front inside page; but often a tired workman, reading his "verses" for the night, turns first of all to the front inside page, and reads three words that light and time and dirt have almost effaced--"Ruth loves John." Sometimes the gaze is long, and sometimes the fading words are still further dimmed by tears, but the faded Valentine is fragrant with precious memories of a child's love that resulted in the homecoming of the prodigal. THE CORD OF LOVE A transcontinental express was speeding across the prairies to its Pacific Coast terminus. Two hours before it shrieked its approach to a foothill city, the local police received a message which, being interpreted, read: "Detain Lavina Berson, travelling on No. 96; age about fifteen, black hair, very attractive. Travelling in company of two men when train left B----." When No. 96 pulled into the depôt, two plain-clothes officers boarded the train and soon located the girl wanted. At first the flashing black eyes looked defiantly into the face of Staff-Inspector Kenney as he requested her to accompany him. But the law must be obeyed, and on being shown a detective's badge the little runaway passed with her escort comparatively unnoticed into the city street. At the police-station she sat in the ante-room with the matron, while the inspector, the staff-inspector and the plain-clothes detective discussed the case. The girl's youthfulness and attractiveness appealed to their sympathies.