gradually and silently grown together in the bright sunshine of happy
youth.

A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. At once she
arose to ascertain its meaning, and shortly returned.

"Father," she said, "Billy Fletcher is very sick, and wishes to see you."

"Who brought word, my dear?"

"Hugh Peters. He called to see the old man as he was coming down the road,
and found him quite ill."

The effect of this message was quite magical. No longer was Parson John
the quiet fireside reader, but the true sympathetic pastor. He laid aside
his pipe, and at once arose from his comfortable chair. An expression of
loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his
storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of
remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until
the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to
the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times
to administer the Holy Communion.

Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was
cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small
lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on
his mission of love.