"Mr. Van Brunt, don't you love hymns?"
"I don't know much about 'em, Miss Ellen."
"Mr. Van Brunt, are you one of that fold?"
"What fold?"
"The fold of Christ's people."
"I'm afeard not, Miss Ellen," said he, soberly, after a minute's pause.
"Because," said Ellen, bursting into tears, "I wish you were, very much."
She carried the great brown hand to her lips before she let it go. He went, without saying a word. But when he got out, he stopped and looked at a little tear she had left on the back of it. And he looked till one of his own fell there to keep it company.
CHAPTER XXI.
Footsteps of Angels.