man with man, and its lengthened pathos was such that Trenholme felt
his heart torn for pity within him.

"Look here!" he said at last. (He had been listening he knew not how
long, but the planets in the sky above had moved westward. He took hold
of the old man.) "Look here! He won't come so that you can see Him; but
He's here just the same, you know."

The only result was that the old man ceased speaking aloud, and
continued as if in silent prayer.

It seemed irreverent to interrupt him. Trenholme stood again irresolute,
but he knew that for himself at least it was madness to stand longer
without exercise in the keen night.

"Come, Lord Jesus!" cried the old man again in loud anguish. "Come. The
world is needing only Thee. We are so wicked, so foolish, so weak--we
need Thee. Come!"

Whether or not his companion had the full use of eyes and ears,
Trenholme was emboldened by the memory of the help he had received on
his fall to believe that he could make himself heard and understood. He
shouted as if to one deaf: "The Lord is here. He is with you now, only
you can't see Him. You needn't stay here. I don't know who you are, but
come into my place and get warmed and fed."

"How do you know He is here?" asked the old man, shaking his head
slowly.

"Everybody knows that."