But, though prefaced with the remark that they must remember it was only a story and not at all true, their enjoyment of gnomes and fairies, of wondrous palaces built of shining white clouds, with stars for lamps, was never lessened.

True, there was generally a moral, but in his great desire to make it attractive John often concealed it, and was never quite sure that his stories did the good he intended.

But they did good in another way; the children loved him, as most of them loved nothing else in their meagre, hungry little lives.

And he loved them; they stirred the depths of tenderness in him.
What did the future hold for them?
Misery, perhaps, and surely sin, for what hope was there of purity and holiness in such homes as theirs?
And the horror of that further future, the sure eternity which follows sin, cast a dreary shadow over them, and lent a suppressed passion to the fervor with which he tried to win their love, that he might lead them to righteousness.
But it was his gentleness, and a childlike simplicity which they themselves must early lose, which attracted and charmed the children, and made them happy and contented if they could but be with the preacher.
They had left him reluctantly at the parsonage gate, clamoring for another afternoon, which was gladly promised.

Then John had had a quiet half hour for further thought upon his evening talk to his people, which had been prepared the day before.