summer in Dennis's heart. He inquired his way to a neighboring church,
and every word of prayer, praise, and truth fell on a glad, grateful
spirit. Returning, he wrote a long letter to his mother, telling her
all he had passed through, especially dwelling on the truth he had
discovered of God's wish to make this life happy and successful, as
well as the life beyond.

In closing, he wrote: "Here I am, Dennis Fleet, who a few days since
thought the world scarcely large enough for what I meant to do, standing
contentedly and gratefully in Pat Murphy's shoes. I will not conceal
from you, speaking figuratively (the fates forbid that it should be
literally true), that I hope to outgrow them, and arrive at something
better before many months pass. In the meantime I am indeed thankful
for the means of winning honest bread for us all. It is quite a
come-down from the classics and law to the position of porter and man
of-all-work in a picture and music store, but if God means me to rise
He can lead me upward from my lowly standpoint as well as from the
most favored that I could have chosen for myself. I have learned that
if I will _trust Him_ and do present duty thoroughly, He will not forget
me."

On Monday morning, half an hour before the specified time, Dennis stood
at the store. Impatiently he walked up and down before what would
become the scene of joys and sorrows such as he had never before
experienced. But we will not anticipate.

In due time Mr. Schwartz appeared. He gave Dennis a cool nod, and said,
"Glad to see you so prompt," then muttered again to himself, "New
broom."