When I remarked that Japan was no place for a weak-minded one he seemed to think again about smiling, but changed his mind and asked me solemnly if I would not honor him by coming to his house the following evening and, with his family, attending the great festival on the last night.

I accepted the invitation and he left.

* * * * *

In the evening Page Hanaford came to dinner.  When I told him Zura had returned to her home, the smile on his face faded.  It spread to his lips and eyes as I rehearsed the close of my interview with Mr. Chalmers.

“I sincerely hope that danger is passed,” I said earnestly.

“I would not consider Mr. Chalmers dangerous by nature, only by thoughtlessness,” remarked Page; “his bravado needs seasoning like his youth.  Will you not let me help you, Miss Gray?” he exclaimed as that lady came in almost smothered in the packages her frail arms held.

“Oh! it’s just grand—­how many nice people there are in the world,” the little missionary said enthusiastically, when relieved of her burdens and seated.  “That druggist gentleman was lovely.  I bought a jar of vaseline, and he found out I could talk English.  Then I found out he was trying to talk it; I told him about my hospital, and he gave me all these splendid medicines I brought in.  There’s court-plaster and corn-salve and quinine and tooth-powder and a dozen milk bottles for the babies, and plenty of cans to put things in.  That’s a good start for my drug store.”

“The drug store and the patients, but the building!” I exclaimed.  “Only a dream!  I don’t want to be a cold-water dasher but, Jane Gray, where will your visions lead you?”

“To Heaven, Miss Jenkins; that’s where they were meant to lead.  My hospital is a dream now because it is not built.  But it’s going to be soon; I know it.  Didn’t that splendid Japanese man clothe and educate hundreds of orphans for years on faith, pure and simple?  Of course my little hospital is on the way!  What better proof does anybody want than the story of Mr. Hoda’s Orphan Asylum?”

“Give us the story,” urged Page, sinking into a big chair, after he had made Jane comfortable.

“Indeed I will.  I love to tell it for Mr. Hoda certainly sold his soul for the highest price.”

“When he was a very young and ambitious man, doing without food to get his medical education, three homeless babies fell into his hands.  He and his mother lived on a little less and made room for the children.  Soon more waifs drifted in.  Mr. Hoda couldn’t turn them away, but he wondered where he was to get the food for them.  Then he had a vision and a dream.  In it a great famine was sweeping the land.  He saw a Man beautiful, but sorrowful, toiling up a steep mountain, with His arms full of helpless children and more clinging to His white garments.  This wonderful Being turned and saw the great pity in Mr. Hoda’s eyes, then