"She told me her story, as doubtless she has told it to you."
"She has," said Mrs. Anderson.
"There is not the least doubt," continued the street preacher, "that that notorious thief, Mrs. Warren, used the child to attract people from herself when she was stealing their goods. Mrs. Warren is one of the most noted pickpockets in London. She has been captured, but I greatly fear that some other members of the gang have kidnapped the child once more."
"What can be done?" said Mrs. Anderson. "I wish my son were here. I know he would help."
"Ah, madam," said Father John, "how proud you must be of such a son! I think I would rather belong to his profession than any other in all the world—yes, I believe I would rather belong to it than to my own; for when you can rescue the body of a man from the cruel and tormenting flames, you have a rare chance of getting at his soul."
"My son is a Christian as well as a gentleman," said Mrs. Anderson. "He would feel with you in every word you have uttered, Father John. I will send him a message and ask him if he can meet you here later on to-night."
"I shall be very pleased to come; and I will if I can," said Father John. "But," he added, "my time is scarcely ever my own—I am the servant of my people."
"Your congregation?" said Mrs. Anderson.
"Yes, madam; all sorts and conditions of men. I have no parish; still, I consider myself God's priest to deliver His message to sorrowful people who might not receive it from an ordained clergyman."
Mrs. Anderson was silent. Father John's eyes seemed to glow. He was looking back on many experiences. After a minute he said: