pick.  There was a fountain of filtered water in the center of the green, and a drinking-fountain at each corner of the block, but there wasn’t a saloon in sight!

I looked around to my right, and the old stone house with its grimy face that belonged there had changed into a beautiful home with vines and flowers.  There were windows everywhere jutting out with delightful unexpectedness, and just lovely green grass and more trees all the way to the corner!  On the left, the old foundry had been cleansed and transformed, and had become a hospital belonging to the church.  I couldn’t help thinking right then and there what a grand doctor Tennelly would have made if he only hadn’t been an aristocrat.  The hospital was all white, and there was an ambulance belonging to it, and nurses who worked not only for money, but for the love of Christ.  There wasn’t a doctor in it who didn’t know what the Presence of God meant, or couldn’t point the way to be saved to a dying sinner.

Back of the church block, in place of the old shackly factories, there was one great model factory with the best modern equipment, and the eight-hour system in full swing.  No little children working for a scanty living!  No tired girls and women standing all day long!  No foreman that did not have a love for humanity in his soul and some kind of an idea what it was to have the Presence of the living God in a factory!

I went back to the big stone house and discovered there was a great big living-room with a grand piano at one end, and a stone fireplace large enough for logs.  A wide staircase led up to a gallery where many rooms opened off, rooms enough for every one we wanted, and a big special one for Father and Mother Marshall, winters, opening off in a suite, so that they could be to themselves when they got tired of us all.  Of course, in summers they might want to go home sometimes and take us all with them; or maybe run down to the shore with us in an off year now and then.  Break the news to them gently, darling, for I’ve set my heart on that house just as I saw it, and I hope they won’t object.

     There were other rooms, but they were vague, because I saw
     that you must have the key to them all yet, and I must wait
     till you come, to look into them.

Then I heard sweet sounds from the church, and, turning, I went in.  Some one was playing the organ, high up in the dusky shadows of the gallery, and I knew it was you, Bonnie Rose, my darling!  So I knelt in a pew and listened, with the Presence standing there between us.  And as I knelt another vision came to me, a vision of the past!  I remembered the days when I did not know God; when I sneered and argued and did all I could in my young and conceited way against Him.  I remembered, too, the time He came to me in my illness and I began to believe; and the day I read that verse marked in Stephen’s