“My companion sat there, not saying a word.  I saw the tears come into his eyes.  He wiped them away hurriedly.  Then his face became pale, and it seemed to me that a light actually shone from it.  As I told you, he is just a boy, and as I looked on him then, I thought of the boy prophet, and what my father has told me so often about him.  Well, when the fellow got through with his abuse, and jumped from the table as if we were dismissed, my companion arose and in a voice wonderfully gentle yet vibrant with power, said: 

“’Yes, we will go, but not before I tell you this:  You know not what you say, therefore, you are forgiven, as far as I am concerned.  My parents were driven from this state.  All they had was destroyed by mobs.  My mother died on the plains and her body lies there to this day.  All that mortal man can suffer and live my people have suffered, and all for the sake of the truth, the gospel that I have brought to you this day, and which you so scornfully reject.  And now I tell you in the name of the Lord, some day you will receive this gospel—­but not until you have paid for it, and paid for it dearly.  Like the merchantman in the parable, all that you have will you pay for this Pearl of Great Price!  Good day, sir.’

“We both left him standing somewhat dazed, but I tell you—­”

The letter dropped to Thomas Strong’s knee, as he looked up and out at the closing day.  He arose, went to the glass door which opened on to the little porch, stepped out into the air that he might breathe easier.  What he saw was not Old Thunder Mountain, or the wide extent of the Flat, dim now in the twilight, but a vine-enclosed porch and the pale, peculiar face of a boy telling him the words he had just read. * * * * There had been other boy prophets besides the first great one; and yes, oh Great God, one old, broken man had paid the price.

The vines on the upper porch of Piney Ridge Cottage now also formed a cover, and in their shadow Thomas Strong kneeled and prayed as he had never prayed before.

An hour later, Julia, wondering what their guest was doing in his room so long without a light, called to him softly at the foot of the stairs.

“Yes,” he replied, as if he did not realize for the moment who was calling, “I’m coming—­I’m coming now.”

CHAPTER XXII.

The first Sunday in the month was Fast Day at Piney Ridge the same as in all wards of the Church.  The Bishop had some visiting to do that morning so he did not get to Sunday School; but he returned about eleven o’clock and found the horses hitched to the white-top buggy ready to take all the household to meeting.

“Are we all ready?” he asked as he came into the house.

“Just about,” replied his wife who was putting the finishing touches to the baby’s bonnet.  “Here, hold him.”  She placed the baby in Glen’s arms.  The father somewhat awkwardly tossed him up and down.