"You're still a first-rate preacher, Freddie."
"Oh, yes, Uncle 'Liph; I've been to a better school than the Bible Seminary. I have n't got many religious rules and formulas, but I'm trying to live straight and do what is right."
The old man had paused with tears in his eyes. "I been a-prayin' fur you," he said.
"So has Alice," replied the young man, "though I don't see why she needs to pray. She's a prayer in herself. She has made me better by letting me love her. Come up, Uncle 'Liph. I want you to see her before we go on to my little place."
They stopped before a quiet cottage, and Fred knocked. In the little parlour a girl came to them. She was little, not quite up to Fred's shoulder. His eyes shone as he looked down upon her brown head. There were lines about her mouth, as if she had known sorrow that had blossomed into sweetness. The young man took her hand. "Uncle 'Liph," he said, "this is Alice."
She came forward with winning frankness, and took the old man's hand in hers. The tears stood in his eyes again.
