"I would think that way, no matter what you were," said d.i.c.k.

"You would still value my friendship if I should do some awful wicked thing?" she asked. "Suppose I should leave the church, or run away, or steal, or kill somebody, or do something real terrible?"

d.i.c.k smiled and shook his head. "Nothing you could ever do would make me change. But tell me," he added; "you're not thinking of giving up your church work, are you?"

"Why do you ask?" said she quickly.

"You'll pardon me won't you, if I tell you. I can't help noticing that you are not so much at the meetings of the Society as you were; and that--well--you don't seem--somehow--to take the interest you did. And you have given up your cla.s.s at the South Broadway Mission."

"How do you know that?"

"I asked Brother Cameron if there was any place for me out there, and he said, yes, that your cla.s.s was without a teacher now."

"So you are to have my boys at the Mission. Oh, I am so glad." And her eyes filled. "Don't let them forget me altogether, Mr. Falkner."

"But won't you come back and teach them yourself?"

"No, no; you do not understand; I must give it up. But you'll do better than I anyway, because you can get closer to them. You understand that life so well."

"Yes," he said, very soberly. "I do understand that life very well indeed."

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to pain you." She laid her hand timidly on his arm. "I admire you so much for what you have overcome, and that's what makes me say that you can do a great deal, now that you are through with it. You must forget those things that are behind, you know."

"Yes," murmured d.i.c.k, "those things _are_ behind, and I can do all things through Him; but may I also have the help of thinking of you as my friend?"

Amy blushed again. "Please notice," said d.i.c.k, quietly, "I said of _thinking_ of you as my friend."

The girl put out her hand. "Mr. Falkner, just as long as you wish, you may think of me as your friend. But I want you to pray for me, that I may be worthy your friendship, for I too, have my battles to fight."

And she smiled. "Good-bye. You were so funny when you fell off the stool that day, but I like you better as you are now." Then suddenly the room grew dark and close, and as d.i.c.k turned again to his work, he heard a voice within whispering, "Only in your thoughts can she be your friend."

Adam Goodrich was just coming out of the express office, which was in the same block as the printing establishment, when he saw his daughter leave the building and cross the street. All that day the incident persisted in forcing itself upon his mind, and that night, after the younger members of the family had retired, and he and Mrs Goodrich were alone, he laid aside his evening paper and asked, "What was Amy doing at Udell's place today?"

"She went to have some calling cards printed. Why, what made you ask?"

"Oh nothing. I saw her coming from the building, and I wondered what she was doing there, that's all." He picked up his paper again, but in a moment laid it down once more. "That fellow Falkner joined the church last Sunday night."

"So Frank told me," answered Mrs. Goodrich. "I do wish Rev. Cameron would be more careful. He gets so many such characters into the church.

Why can't he keep them out at the Mission where they belong, and not force us to a.s.sociate with them?"

Mr. Goodrich spoke again. "I suppose he will be active in the Young People's Society now. Does Amy still take as much interest there as she did?"

"Oh no, not nearly as much as she used to. I have tried to show her that it was not her place to mix in that kind of work, and she's beginning to understand her position, and to see that she can't afford to lower herself and us, by running after such people. I don't understand where she gets such low tastes."

"She don't get them from the Goodrich's, I'm sure," answered Adam.

"You know _our_ family was never guilty of anything that could compromise their standing in society."

"Well, she will outgrow it all in time, I am sure. I have been as careful in her training as I could, Mr. Goodrich. It is a hard task to raise girls, and make them understand their position when they're Amy's age; but she's taking up her social duties again now. We are to make some calls tomorrow, and Thursday night, she has accepted an invitation to the card party at Mrs. Lansdown's; and Mr. Whitley has called frequently of late. I have great hopes, for she seems to be quite interested in him."

"Yes," agreed Adam. "Whitley is worth while; he is of a good family, and without doubt, the richest man in Boyd City. It would be a great thing for us. It's time he was thinking about a wife too. He must be well on toward forty."

"Oh dear no; he can't be more than thirty-five; he was quite young when he went abroad, and you remember that was only five years ago."

"Well, well, it's no matter; he's young enough. But does she see much of that printer of Udell's?"

"Why, of course not; what a question. She would have nothing to do with him."

"But she has met him at the socials and in the Society. He would naturally pose as a sort of hero, for he was the one who suggested that fool plan that Cameron is working on; and now that he has joined the church, she must see more or less of him. I tell you, he's a sharp fellow. Look how he has been quietly worming himself into decent society since he got hold of that reading room. There is no knowing what such a man will do, and Amy naturally would be a good mark for him."

"I'm sure I am doing the best I can," faltered Mrs. Goodrich; "but you'd better talk to her yourself; with Mr. Whitley so interested, we must be careful. I do wish she would be more like Frank. He has never given us a moment's trouble."

"Yes," said the father, with no little pride manifest in his voice and manner. "Frank is a Goodrich through and through. Amy seems to take more after your people."

Mrs. Goodrich sighed. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can help it."

The next day, after dinner, Mr. Goodrich found his daughter alone in the library, where she had gone with a bit of fancy work, which girls manage to have always about them. "Frank tells me that Mr. Falkner has united with the church," he remarked, carelessly.

"Yes," said Amy, "I am so glad. The church needs such young men, I think."

"He is quite a shrewd fellow, isn't he?" continued her father.

"He's very intelligent, I'm sure. You know it was he who proposed the plan for our new inst.i.tution, and Mr. Wicks and Brother Cameron think it is very fine."

"Does he use good language in his conversation?"

"Oh yes sir, indeed. He is a very interesting talker. He has traveled so much, and read almost everything. I tell him I think he ought to preach."

"Hum. And will he, do you think?"

"He said he would if he were convinced it was his work."

"Where did he live before he came here?"

"Oh, he has lived in nearly all the big cities. He was in Kansas City last."

"And what did his father do?"

"His mother died when he was a little boy, and his father drank himself to death, or something. He won't talk about his family much. He did say though, that his father was a mechanic. I believe that he tells Mr. Udell more about his past than anyone."

"And did Udell tell you all this?"

"No," answered Amy, who suddenly saw what was coming.

"How do you know so much about him then?"

"He told me."

"Indeed. You seem to be on very good terms with this hero. How long were you at the printing office yesterday? I saw you leaving the building."

Amy was silent, but her burning cheeks convinced her father that he had cause to be alarmed.