"I know it," said Jim, holding the proffered hand in a hearty grasp. "I have been wrong in that respect; but I felt so weak, so doubtful at times, so afraid of making blunders, that I thought it best to keep quiet, and if my life could not speak for me then it would be because there was nothing to speak. But I was at prayer-meeting last evening; sat over in the seat by the door. I heard what you said, and I came to the conclusion that the Lord had lighted my candle for me, and that I had hidden it away under a bushel as if I were ashamed of it; and I have been planning all day how to bring it out from the shadow and have it shine."
You may imagine that the rest of that evening was blessed to those two young men. Those of you who by experience know any thing about it will understand how Theodore believed that he could never hear words more blessed than those which Jim spoke to him as they shook hands for good-night.
"Least of all, my dear fellow, should I have hid the story from you, for from the first to the last you have been the means, under God, of my finding him; and, Mallery, one of the longest strides I ever took toward the 'strait gate' was that evening when you almost made me sign the pledge. Oh, we have a new name to our roll. Did I tell you? Mr. Ryan."
"Not the lawyer?"
"Yes, the lawyer. Boards at the Euclid House, you know; signed at our last meeting. You had something to do with that, hadn't you? He said something to me in that queer way he has about meeting Habakkuk not long ago, and finding that he had added the whole Bible to his bottle argument."
And so it was that Theodore did not go yet after all, but sat down again to discuss this new delight.
And thus it came to pass that he was walking rapidly down town at rather a late hour, and overtook two persons who were stumbling and muttering along the now nearly deserted street.
"Poor wretches," he said to himself; "poor miserable wretches! I wonder whether the rum-hole that sent them out in this condition was gilded and glittering, or was a veritable cellar stripped of its disguise? This is what I used to fear for Jim, the splendid fellow! I never half did him justice. What a boy, though, not to tell his mother. I wonder who the dear old saint will take up for her 'most special subject' now? Jim and Rick both gathered in. It will be Winny with twofold earnestness now, I presume. Oh, the mansions are filling up, and I thank God that he is letting me help to fill them. But who will I take now?"
"Le me lone," interrupted one of the poor drunkards, giving his companion a vigorous push, "I can walk without your help, I guess; pity if I couldn't!"
"Suppose," continued Theodore to his inner self; "suppose I should take that poor fellow who is leaning against the post? God's mercy is great enough for him. I want somebody to bring as a thank-offering for Jim and Rick—yes, and for Mr. Ryan, too. I believe I'll choose him. I'll find out who he is, and follow him up, with the Lord's help, until he chooses one of the many mansions for himself. How shall I go to work to discover who he is and where he belongs? I really doubt his knowledge of either subject just at present."