"Always helping somewhere, John. What a grand fellow you are!"
"We are in the world to help the world, else what were the use of living?"
"I can't do anything," said Reginald, "with this clog." He looked contemptuously at his ebony crutch as he spoke.
John laid his hand upon his arm. "Rege," he said in his old, tender way. "I think this very 'clog' as you call it, is a preparation to help those who are passing through the baptism of pain."
* * * * *
Mrs. Reginald Hawthorne welcomed her husband's friend with a winning charm. She was very pretty, very graceful and very young. Reginald idolized her. John saw that as he looked around the sumptuous home whose every fitting was a tribute to her taste. They had just finished unpacking the things they had brought from Europe.
"Strangely enough," said Reginald with a laugh, "I told Elise this morning that now I was going to start out in search of you!"
He had developed wonderfully. John saw that too. Travel and trial had brought out the good that was in him—but not the best.
The evening passed pleasantly. Mrs. Hawthorne played beautifully, and
Reginald had kept ears and eyes open and talked well.
"How about the other life, Rege?" asked John when they had a few moments alone. "This one seems very fair."