“But what rotten luck I’ve had!” she exclaimed a moment later. “All that fuss and I really found out nothing. I wonder what earthly use a mouse could be put to anyway? If I knew of any I’d buy half a dozen white ones and put them to work, just for revenge.”
* * * * * * * *
If you have read much in the ancient writings you will recall the story of the wilderness prophet who lived on locusts and wild honey. You will remember, too, that when he was asked who he was, he replied: “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness.”
A queen heard of that voice and became very angry because of its utterances. Which all goes to prove that even in those days, a voice had influence and power. How much more so to-day, when a voice on the air, sounding over thousands of miles, spans oceans, continents, and speaks to millions!
The Voice, with which Johnny had become so familiar, continued its nightly messages to the people of the great city. And with each passing night the anger of some, the approval of many, grew. It became no infrequent occurrence for people to overhear on street car, in shop, factory, or store, the words: “Did you hear him? Did you hear the Voice last night? Isn’t he grand? Doesn’t he speak the truth?”
Such was the enthusiasm of many. Many there were, too, who attempted to discover his identity; but all in vain.
Some there were, sober minded ones of long experience, who shook their heads sadly and murmured low:
“He speaks truth. But it is rash. The world has never loved its prophets. It stoned them in olden times. What less can be expected to-day?”
But all unheeding, the Voice went steadily, fearlessly on.