"Time enough! Time enough! Yes, that's the cry," said the young man.

"That's what has caused more misery in the world than anything else; it's a rope that has lost many a soul forever."

Harry turned away impatiently. He did not want to hear.

"Of course you don't want to hear me talk that way," said the lame man bluntly, divining his thought. "I didn't suppose you did. But, let me tell you, young fellow, there's enough of that rotten rope left for you to lose your soul with. Will you turn your head away when you feel it snap, and find yourself dying, with nothing to hold on to, I wonder?"

Without more ado he grasped his crutches, and painfully hobbled away.

Harry tried to be glad he was gone. He did not succeed as easily, however, in dismissing from his mind the words he had heard. Perhaps it was the odd, abrupt way in which they were spoken, that made them fasten themselves so tenaciously on his memory. Certainly he would have been angry had any one else spoken so plainly and unceremoniously to him. The sight of his body, telling such an eloquent tale of suffering, made it almost impossible for any one to be angry with Joel Piper. Harry presently found himself wondering about him, and wishing he would come back and talk to him again.

He did not come, and one day Harry found courage to ask the nurse, who was busied near him, to tell him the name of the lame young man who talked to him one day.

"Oh, do you mean Joel Piper?" she asked in return.

"I didn't know that was his name," replied Harry, looking amused.

"Yes, it is," replied the nurse. "It's an odd name, I know, but he is just as nice as he can be. He's had a world of trouble and pain; but he's come out pure gold."

"Wasn't he always that?" asked Harry, curiously.

"No, indeed, he wasn't. He was one of the wildest young men, and it was that which brought on the sickness--rheumatic fever--which twisted him up so. It was this illness too, that brought about his conversion; and now he likes to visit the hospitals and talk to all the young men he can find, and try to get them to turn about. He says he's trying to make up for lost time. Some think he's crazy, but he isn't--only eccentric."

"Does he come here often?" asked Harry.

"Well, sometimes he does," was the answer. "Would you like to see him again?"

"I wouldn't mind having a little talk with him," admitted Harry.

"I'll tell him," said the kind woman.

Joel came; but Harry could not tell from his manner whether he was pleased or not at his having expressed a desire to see him.

Now that he was there, what should he say? Harry asked this question, but no answer came.

But Joel seemed to understand all about the matter, and began right away:

"You've had a rough time, eh? Didn't expect it, now, did you, when you started out? Going to have a good time, enjoy yourself, and all that?

Well, it's all right. You've had about enough of that sort of thing, I guess. You'd like to turn right about face now, and go back to your mother, perhaps?"

"Who told you I had a mother?" asked Harry, sharply.

"n.o.body," was the calm rejoinder.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know; I only guessed. Somehow or other, you look as if you had. Have you?"

"Yes, I have," groaned Harry, "and a sister too; but I came away and left them, and now I'm ashamed to go back."

"Well, if you're made of the right kind of stuff you'll go to work as soon as you're out of this, and fix things so you'll not be ashamed to go back," said Joel. "Between us," he went on, bending over and looking at Harry with one eye shut up tightly, "I've got a mother and sister too. I did pretty much as you did, only worse, I guess. I've been working hard to make a man of myself before I go back to them. I'm going soon too."

"To work!" exclaimed Harry, looking at the crooked figure pityingly. "What can _you_ do?"

"Do?" repeated Joel, raising his brows, and opening wide his eyes.

"Look," and he held up his long slim fingers. "I can write beautifully,"

he continued, with the simplicity of a child. "And I'm a clerk in a large clock and jewelry establishment. A good kind friend who came to see me at the hospital when I was so ill, secured the situation for me.

And if you mean to turn about sure enough, and no going back about it, I will try and get you taken on as a salesman."

Harry was completely won by Joel's plain, straight-forward manner and hearty kindness, and gave his promise to turn over a new leaf. What is of more importance he kept the promise faithfully.

When Harry was discharged from the hospital, he looked quite different from what he did when he first entered it, or rather when he was carried there. He was worn almost to a shadow, it is true; but his sickness had taken from him the look of the outcast, and his intercourse with his new friend, and the hopes he had for the future restored to him once more the ability to look the "whole world in the face."

He was clad in a suit that had been worn by Joel ere his body was so distorted by rheumatism. It was not a perfect fit, but it was clean and neat, and gave to Harry a very presentable air.

True to his promise, Joel tried and succeeded in getting the situation he spoke of for his young friend toward whom he had been strongly attracted.

Harry was also naturally smart and intelligent, and now that he had put off the shackles of the false friends with whom Satan had provided him, promised to do well in his new position. Joel was determined that through no fault of his should Harry fail. He never lost sight of him for any length of time. The two boarded at the same place, and Joel insisted on his accompanying him to church. They read, talked, and walked together, and as a natural consequence became much attached to each other.

CHAPTER XIV.

A CHAPTER OF WONDERS.

It was a dull, gray, rainy morning when our friend Flora found herself standing in front of the house that had been her home for so many years.

What a flood of memories the sight of the familiar scene brought to her!

She paused a moment or two to revel in the pleasure she thus felt. She did not feel at all excited, or even curious as to the cause for, or the probable result of her trip. Turning to the house, she stepped to the door, and lifted the knocker.

The door was opened by the neat, but uncommunicative maid, who was in charge of affairs during Mrs. Martin's illness; and who silently, and apparently acting on previous arrangement, led the way direct to the sick room.

Although the day was dark and cloudy, the window shades were down, and heavy curtains lent their aid to darken the room still more.

Mrs. Martin's greeting was somewhat of a surprise to Flora as she stood on the threshold, scarcely knowing whether to enter the darkened chamber or not.

"Why don't you come in and shut the door?" came in fretful tones from the bed.

"I should like to do it, indeed, Aunt Sarah, if I could only see my way," returned Flora, mischievously. She wondered at her own temerity.

At one time she would not have dared use such liberty of speech with this punctilious aunt. But she had grown to be very independent since she had been thrown so entirely upon her own resources, and had become accustomed to think and act both for herself and others. She felt that she had grown, in that she no longer stood in awe of Aunt Sarah's cold tones. Why should she? She had come to ask no favor.

"Well," came in questioning tones from the invalid.

"May I draw up the shades, Aunt Sarah?" asked Flora, advancing slowly into the room and closing the door softly.

"I suppose so. You can draw up anything you like, it makes no difference to me," was the somewhat ungracious reply.

Flora paid no attention to the tone, but drew up the shades, making it possible to see what was in the room.