Mr. Flint had half-raised himself, and was staring at his son with a look of agony on his face.
"In God's name, Will, go! Your life—"
Will calmly raised his hand as though to command silence.
"Danger, my life?" he said, and then smiled as he took Barbara's hands in his own. "Your life is my life, Barbara."
"And mine," groaned the sick man.
"Yes, and yours, father," replied Will, as he went to the bed and looked into his father's eyes. "I'm sorry to find you this way, but I have good news of mother. She is better, except for worrying about you and wanting to come." A sob from Barbara caused Will to turn quickly and clasp her in his arms, and as he wiped away the tears and kissed her, he saw the worry and work written on her face.
"I have come to help, Barbara," he said. She understood and blessed him for it, but until all danger was passed she prayed unceasingly for his safety.
That evening Sam Billings was dozing on the front steps when Will opened the door without thinking that Sam was not aware of his presence in the parsonage.
"Hello, Sam," he said.
Sam was so startled that he almost fell down the steps. When he had recovered his balance he stood up, rubbed his eyes, and stared.