John Randolph sought Evadne in the familiar porch which had grown to be to him the sweetest spot on earth.
"You are always busy," he said with a smile, as he lifted the garment she was making for the little waif who was to have her first taste of heaven at 'The Willows.' Satan has no chance to find an occupation for you."
"But, oh, Doctor Randolph, what a drop in the bucket all our doing seems, when we think of the need of the world!"
"Yet without the drops the bucket would be empty, dear friend. God never expects the impossible from us, you know. I think Christ's highest commendation will always be, 'She hath done what she could.' It is when we neglect the doing that he is wounded."
After a pause he spoke again. "With your permission I am going to send you a new patient." There was no trace of the struggle through which he had passed. This brave soul had learned to do the right and leave the rest with God.
Evadne laughed. "Still they come! Is it man, woman or child. Doctor
Randolph?"
"Your cousin Louis." His voice was very still.
"Poor Louis! Is it more serious then? He has been looking wretchedly for months."
John Randolph examined her face critically. Could she call him "poor
Louis" if she loved?
"His present trouble is nervous strain, aggravated by the unaccustomed confinement, and some mental excitement under which he is laboring. He must have a long rest, with a complete change of environment. If anyone can lift the cloud which seems to be hanging over him, I think it is you."