“You can stay here, Rosa, and have supper ready when I git back, and make me some tea; I’ll need it to settle my nerves.  Take them fine clothes off, too, before you spoil ’em.  I want you to learn to be savin’, like I’ve always been.  And give that grease spot another scrubbin’, and go to the corner grocery and git—­”

“No, Mrs. Gray,” vehemently interposed Esther, “did I not tell you that Rosa is never going to live with you again?  You are about to realize your dream of liberty, for which without a doubt you are duly grateful.  You seem to feel that both grandpa and Rosa have been intolerable burdens.”

Esther was the repetition of her father, and when the case demanded could be firm and commandingly dignified.

Again Mrs. Gray was speechless.  For so long she had been absolute monarch in her small realm, with none daring to question or to rise in rebellion, that it was a revelation to find in a young woman like Esther an opposite and stronger force with which to reckon.

For the first time in her life she was completely conquered, and without another word marched solemnly down to the carriage.

“This is an opportunity,” thought Esther, “and may I be directed in all I say.”

Not wishing this woman possessed of a hard heart and a shriveled soul to stand in awe of her any longer, a few kind and ordinary remarks soon accomplished the desired end.

“Well, Miss Esther, you ain’t told me how it’s all come about.  I can’t fer the life of me think, and it all seems so strange.  I jest can’t git it through my head that father’s a-goin’ to die.  Are you real sure of it?  Mebbe there’s a mistake.”

“No, Mrs. Gray, there is no mistake.  In a few hours he will be safe forever in the better land.”

Esther’s power of narration was well developed.  Going into the minute details, she simply told the whole story, while Mrs. Gray attentively listened without an interruption.  There were indications that the hitherto impregnable fortress of this untutored woman’s heart was beginning to totter.  But is there after all in this great world a heart so loveless, so blackened by sin, or so narrowed by its own selfish domain, as to be entirely invincible?  Cannot the love emanating from Christ Himself, flowing through the channel of a surrendered life, leave its impress where all else fails?

Esther’s observant eye noted the change, then skilfully she began speaking of the Lord as a personal Saviour.

Presently tears began rolling down the hardened cheeks, causing the young messenger to feel that victory was almost certain.

Upon reaching the Fairfax home, Mrs. Gray was ushered into a room, which to her seemed magnificent.

Grandpa was lying upon an immaculate bed, while everything surrounding him was far more indicative of loving thoughtfulness than of luxury.  In his hand he clasped a beautiful rose, because during his rational moments he so often spoke of the “pretty roses a-growin’ by the brook down in the lane.”  The rose was presented by none other than Dr. Dale, not—­so he assured himself—­that he was in the least sympathetic with the Fairfaxes in their eccentric freak.  It was simply for the good of the patient that all small whims be humored.