M. F. A. L.—If we can only be worthy!
You are both doing it, every bit you can.
M. F. A. L.—Well, I'm getting to love people more than I used to do.
I have learnt over here, that every one is not for you. If not in affinity, let them go, and be with those you do like.
Mother, will they think I'm kind of puffing myself up or humbugging? It's so wonderful, will they be able to understand that it's just Raymond that's been through this? No Sunday school.
I treasured it up to give you to-night. I put it off because I didn't know if I could give it in the right words that would make them feel like I feel—or something like. Isn't it a comfort? You and father think it well over. I didn't ask for work to be near the earth plane! I thought that things would be made right. But think of it being given me, the work I should have prayed for!
M. F. A. L.—Then you're nearer?
Much nearer! I was bound to be drawn (?). So beautiful to think, now I can honestly stay near the earth plane. Eventually, instead of going up by degrees, I shall take, as Feda has been promised, a jump. And when you and father come, you will be on one side, and father on the other. We shall be a while in Summerland, just to get used to conditions. He says very likely we shall be wanted to keep an eye on the others. He means brothers and sisters. I can't tell you how pleased I feel—'pleased' is a poor word!
M. F. A. L.—About what, my dear?