the quarterly communion service was about to be conducted in st. andrew's church. the usual invitations had been given from the pulpit, and a few had called at the manse to discuss the question of membership. it was always a time of prayerful concern on the part of the minister lest any should take the step without realizing its obligations and privileges. at the minister's invitation, john gage had spent over an hour in the study.

"nothing less than an out and out surrender will do, john. you have had your way, and the devil has had his way, now you must be willing to let god have full control. there must be an entire breaking away from past associations, and you must take the step that can never mean retreat. unless you do that the path back to the old ways will be too attractive, and too easy."

once again the two men read passages from well-thumbed pages in the study bible, and again the shepherd of souls called on the one who is mighty to save, and then john prayed, and as the long silence was broken and a wanderer in a far country turned his face to his father and uttered penitent words, the minister's tears of joy could no longer be restrained. as they rose from their knees, hands were clasped, and those feelings, too deep for words, found expression in the pressure of a protecting and a trusting hand.

in the eyes of the majority of the kirk session, there was little risk in receiving into membership the well-to-do respectable sinner, but when the minister narrated the conversations he had had with john gage, and suggested his name as a candidate for membership, eyebrows were raised and heads shook ominously.

"wad it no' be better to put him off for a few months to see whether he could stan' alone first?" was the question of john mcnair, the senior elder.

colonel monteith, who was greatly burdened with the responsibility for maintaining the dignity of the presbyterian church, wondered whether "this rather disreputable man gage would not find more congenial associates down in the free methodist hall." tom rollins didn't know "how the people would take it."

murray meiklejohn, characterized by his reticence and good common sense, moved that "john gage be received," and stammeringly added that so far as leaving john to stand alone was concerned, he "guessed" they had been doing that ever since he came to town, ten years ago.

and so with some misgivings, and with some wounded pride, the session included john gage in its reception list.

on friday night, an hour before the time for preparatory service, john called at the manse. "i'm a-trembling all through," he said to the minister, "and i was half-minded not to come. if it hadn't been for what you said about the hospital being a place for sick folks, i wouldn't had the courage to face it."

the preparatory service of that night is still spoken of in the quiet village. perhaps the atmosphere was created by one who had prayed much that day that the congregation might receive a new vision of the redeemer, through the words of one for whom not an individual in the entire congregation had any hope six weeks before.

the sermon over, the minister and elders extended the right hand of fellowship to the little company occupying the front seats. "to-night," said the minister, as he returned to the platform, "i have asked my friend mr. john gage to say a few words." the lecture-hall had probably never known stiller moments than those immediately following the announcement.

john gage, pale and trembling, not daring to look at his audience, stood facing the platform. in a low voice he said, "well, friends, i have been a bad man—that's no news to anybody, but god helping me i'm going to be better. seems like a miracle, don't it, that john gage has been sober for five weeks?"

as he sat down, the "let us pray" of the minister preceded a petition for "our brother," that made most hearts tender and prayerful.

"it's a new day for st. andrew's," said murray meiklejohn, as he shook the hand of the minister after the benediction. "nothing like to-night's meeting in my memory. looks as if we were going to stop singing 'rescue the perishing' and get on the job."

it is no easy task for the average presbyterian elder to utter a fervent "god bless you," but that night hearts were stirred and tongues were loosened, and john gage felt that after all the world was not so unfriendly as he had imagined. hand after hand was extended in genuine welcome. but the finest thing of all, as the minister said a little later, was the way the colonel warmed up to john. he had never been seen to manifest the same cordiality in the church before. "a manly step to take, sir—a manly step—needs courage to fight that kind of a battle. personally i am glad to welcome you to st. andrew's."

when story-time came at the manse on the following evening, ruth was all attention as her mother told of the homecoming of another prodigal, and of all it might mean.

ruth's prayer had two additional words that night. the closing part was uttered more deliberately than usual, as if in anticipation of the seriousness of the added petition. "bless daddy and mamma, and—all—the—friends—i—love—and john, for jesus' sake. amen."