But as the golden gate of childhood thus closed on Grace Campbell, another gate opened for her which led to pleasant places.  It had, indeed, been waiting open for her ever since she came into the world, though she had often passed it by unheeded.  But at last there came to Grace a glimpse of the shining light which still guides the way of seeking souls to “yonder wicket gate.”  She began to feel an intense longing to enter there and begin that new life to which it leads.  She knocked, and found that it was open for her, and entering there she met the gracious Guide who had beckoned her to come, whispering in the silence of her heart, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”  Not long after Grace had begun to walk in this path, an event happened which proved to her like the visit to the “Interpreter’s House” in the Pilgrim’s story; but in order to explain its full eventfulness, we must go back to tell of earlier days in her aunt’s home.

On Sunday mornings Grace usually drove with her aunt to church in decorous state.  When Walter was at home he made one of the carriage party, though generally under protest, declaring that it would be “ever so much jollier to walk than to be bowled along in that horrid old rumble,” as he used irreverently to designate his aunt’s rather antique chariot.  When they arrived at church, the children followed their aunt’s slow steps to one of the pews in the gallery, where Miss Hume used to take the precautionary measure of separating them by sending Grace to the top of the seat, and placing herself between the vivacious Walter and his playmate.  Notwithstanding this precaution, they generally contrived to find comfortable recreative resources during the service, bringing all their inventive energy to bear on creating new diversions as each Sunday came round.  There was always their Aunt Hume’s fur cloak to stroke the wrong way, if there was nothing more diverting within reach; had it only been the cat, whose sentiments regarding a like treatment of her fur were too well known to Walter, he felt that the pleasure would have been greater.  Sometimes, indeed, the amusements were of a strictly mental nature, conducted in the “chambers of imagery.”  Miss Hume would feel gratified by the stillness of posture and the earnest gaze in her nephew’s eyes.  They were certainly not fixed directly on the preacher, but surely the boy must be listening, or he would never be so quiet.  Grace, however, was in the secret, and knew better.  Walter had confided to her that he had got such “a jolly make-believe” to think about in church.  The great chandelier which hung from the centre of the church ceiling, with its poles, and chains, and brackets, was transformed in his imagination to a ship’s mast and rigging, where he climbed and swung, and performed marvellous feats, also in imagination, be it understood.  And so it happened that Grace could guess where her brother’s thoughts were when he sat gazing dreamily at the huge gilded chandelier of the city church.