But the minister did not seem to notice neither the dress nor the fastenings which confined the children. He seemed rather to be impressed by Pearl's wonderfully expressive face and the startling sweetness of her voice, while Periwinkle's precociousness and quaint, grown-up ways attracted him very much.

"Let the children come to see me soon, Miss Hetty," he urged, "and I may be able to give them some instruction along the lines in which you say they lack so much. Joe could help them in their lessons too." And then turning to Pearl and Periwinkle, he asked: "How would you like to come to the parsonage, and go over your lessons with my son?"

"Would he play with us?" queried Pearl.

With a hearty laugh the minister replied: "I'm almost afraid he would. He is still a boy even though he is nineteen and goes to college. I am sure that he still knows how to play. He's the only boy I have—all I have—and I suppose I've spoiled him."

"When shall I send the children, Rev. Smith?" asked Miss Maise.

"Tomorrow, or the next day," was the prompt reply. "This is mid-August. We can't begin too soon."

Tuesday afternoon the children wended their way to the parsonage. Pearl was clad in a starched gingham dress, uncomfortably high about the neck, and with sleeves of an unaccustomed length. The minister himself met them at the door and ushered them into a room that from all appearances was meant to be used as a comfortable and cozy living room—even though there were some evidences of disorder which they knew their aunt would not have approved of.

"Amuse yourselves for a minute, while I try to find Joe. It is rather difficult to keep track of him," said the minister as he left them alone.

When a few minutes later, the minister, followed by his son, was about to enter the room he stopped, and, grasping his son's arm warningly, they both, unperceived, watched the two children.

Left to their own resources the children had not remained inactive. Their curious eyes taking in all the strange surroundings, they saw many things that interested them. One of the pictures on the east wall particularly impressed them. It portrayed the figure of a man, his face lighted up with a wonderfully tender expression, while in his arms and round about him were small children, alone or with their mothers. The afternoon sun, shining through the open window, seemed to shed a radiant halo over the whole group and to make the picture stand out in bold relief. Standing before the picture in silent wonder, they had not noticed the approach of the minister and his son. The minister quietly withdrew, and when the children turned as if by common impulse, they saw only a young man whose ingratiating smile at once opened a way to their hearts.

Their previous experience in coming in contact with people enabled them to become acquainted with the minister's son and to feel themselves the very best of friends in less time than it ordinarily takes children to overcome their natural timidity in the presence of strangers. Nor was it any wonder that a close friendship was formed so quickly, for Joseph Smith was that type of grown up boy whom all children feel instinctively to be their friend.

After the first greetings and establishment of this friendship, Pearl turned with childlike determination to the matter uppermost in her curious mind.

"What is the name of that picture?" she asked, pointing at the one which had attracted their attention.

"That is 'Christ Blessing the Children,'" replied Joe, and then he hesitated. His father had asked him to help the children with their arithmetic; he had not specified that he turn missionary as well as teacher. Work of that kind was not exactly in his line. Like so many lads of his age he seldom spoke on religious topics, although his faith was a vital factor in his life. But catching sight of the enraptured face of little Pearl, he felt certain facts flashing through his mind, something about Christ's love for little ones and that we should not offend one of them.

So he bravely began to tell the sweet story, though somewhat rapidly and not any too clearly.

"Jesus Christ, the only Son of God whom God loved very much, lived on earth and walked with His disciples. His disciples were the men who followed Him and heard His teachings and tried to be like Him by doing good and helping others. The mothers who lived where Jesus was preaching heard of His kindness. They had heard also how He healed some of their sick friends. So they brought their children to Him so that He might bless them. Now when the disciples saw the women with the little children they told them to go back to their homes. They said that Christ was too busy to bother with children. But Jesus did not want them to do this and he told his disciples, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the Kingdom of God.' He loved little children and He also wanted them in His kingdom. He then took them in His arms and blessed them, just as you see in this picture."

A solemn stillness followed while the two turned again to view the lovely painting. Finally Periwinkle broke the silence:

"He must have been very good to take such an interest in the little children." Thereupon all thought of the arithmetic lesson vanished, and Joe briefly told the whole beautiful story from the night of the angels' song until Jesus Christ again returned to His throne in heaven.

When Joe had finished his recital, Periwinkle looked up with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, how glad I am to know that! How I wish the Fat Woman could have heard it! She'd been so interested. I think she always thought herself better than the rest of the circus people."

A certain short prayer with somewhat similar meaning occurred to the minister's son, but he only smiled at the pharisaical egotism of the Fat Woman. After all she had trained the children morally, if not religiously, and this made the teaching of Christian truths far less difficult. Children reared in love are almost always ready to accept the story of the Supreme Love.

"She never said anything about faith," continued Periwinkle in his thoughtful way. "But she told us, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' Maybe," he ventured with some hesitancy, "that was her faith. Do you suppose it would be just as good, Joe?"

Joe was somewhat surprised that his young pupil had thus unconsciously stumbled upon a disputed point that has led many minds astray, but he answered firmly and with conviction:

"No, Peri; the Fat Woman could not keep the law of love perfectly. Do you think she did?" he challenged suddenly.

"No," cried Pearl, who had been listening intently. "Once or twice she slapped us when we hadn't done a thing, and sometimes she got very spiteful at Mr. Barleydon, and she used to tell mother that the tight-rope walker made her sick. That's not doing unto others as we wish them to do unto us. But," the loyal youngster hastened to defend her friend, "the tight-rope walker was enough to make anybody sick and then I guess the Fat Woman never heard about Jesus saying: 'Love your enemies.'"

"Perhaps she did know it," replied Joe, "but she couldn't have kept the rule perfectly anyway. Nobody can, Pearl, even those who know God's law best, although they must always try very hard. God showed His great love for us by sending Jesus Christ to keep the law for us. He could not do wrong or fail to keep the law. And now if we believe in Him and come to Him as children come to their father for help, He will count it the same as if our lives were as good and perfect as His