“Yes, my boy, we have the same battle to fight—you and I—the same race to run; so we can sympathize with each other, and must try to be fellow-helpers.”
“You can help me, papa, but how can I help you?” asked Max, with a look of surprise, not unmixed with gratification.
“By being a good son to me and your mamma, and a good brother to your sisters; if you are all that, you can not fail to be a very great help, blessing and comfort to me. But best of all, Max, you can pray for me.”
“Oh, papa, I do; I never forget you night or morning; but——”
“Well?”
“I—I’m afraid my prayers are not worth much.”
“Why not, my son? the Bible tells us God is no respecter of persons, but is ready to hear and answer all who come to him in the name of his dear Son, who is the one mediator between God and men. If you ask in his name—for his sake—you are as likely to receive as I or any one else.
“Now I must bid you good-night, for it is high time you were asleep.”
The next evening, about the time the good-nights were being said at the Oaks, Captain Raymond left Lulu, who had just passed a very happy half hour, seated on his knee, in her own little sitting-room, and went down to the parlor where Violet was entertaining her guests.
There was quite a number of them, though it was only a family gathering. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, from Ion; Grandma Elsie, as Evelyn and the Raymond children called her; Lester Leland and his Elsie; Edward and Zoe, and Herbert and Harold, who were at home from college for the Christmas holidays, beside the Lacey’s from the Laurels, several of the Howards of Pine Grove, and Calhoun and Arthur Conley from Roselands.