"Think again, John Weightman. Has there been nothing like that
in
your life?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "If there ever were such things, it must
have been
long ago--they were all crowded out--I have forgotten them."

There was an ineffable smile on the face of the Keeper of the
Gate,
and his hand made the sign of the cross over the bowed head as he

spoke gently:

"These are the things that the King never forgets; and because
there were a few of them in your life, you have a little place
here."

The sense of coldness and hardness under John Weightman's hands
grew sharper and more distinct. The feeling of bodily weariness
and
lassitude weighed upon him, but there was a calm, almost a
lightness,
in his heart as he listened to the fading vibrations of the
silvery bell-tones. The chimney clock on the mantel had just
ended
the last stroke of seven as he lifted his head from the table.
Thin, pale strips of the city morning were falling into the room
through