"ALICE."
Another day, when Doris was despairing of ever getting anything to do, she received a second letter from her friend, which was short and to the point.
"Eureka! I have found it," wrote Alice, "now at last our woes will be all over. Our work will be honourable of its sort, and it will pay a little--enough to feed the lion and our humble selves, although we shall not be able to save money. Oh, dear no. But we must be thankful for small mercies in these days. Meet me to-morrow at twelve o'clock at the Park Square entrance to the Broad Walk in Regent's Park; then we will have a walk and talk about it.
"Thine,
"ALICE."
CHAPTER XVIII.
NEW EMPLOYMENT FOR DORIS.
No soul can be quite separate,
However set aside by fate,
However cold or dull or shy
Or shrinking from the public eye.
The world is common to the race,
And nowhere is a hiding-place:
Behind, before, with rhythmic beat,
Is heard the tread of marching feet.
* * * * *
And as we meet and touch each day,
The many travellers on our way,
Let every such brief contact be
A glorious, helpful ministry:
The contact of the soil and seed,
Each giving to the other's need,
Each helping on the other's best,
And blessing, each, as well as blest.
SUSAN COOLIDGE.
"Oh, my dear Doris, isn't it lovely to be out here in the fresh air and sunshine, with you, too, at last? At last!" Alice's feet almost danced over the ground, as with a smiling face she drew her friend along the Broad Walk in Regent's Park. "Oh, I have so much to tell you! We have been parted ages--ages!" she cried.
"Ages indeed!" sighed Doris. "It does seem such a long, long time: and yet I suppose it is barely four months since you left me."