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opportunity would come. His seat was at her left hand. They exchanged some remarks about the weather, and Celia told him he seemed to have a bad cold. He told her that was a chronic state with him, and then coughed again as he tried to laugh. She entered into his mock gaiety, and told him that if his mother were there she would tell him not to go out that evening, in such damp weather and with that cough.
    His face grew sober instantly, and he said very earnestly: “I suppose she would.”
    “Well, then, I suppose you’ll stay in, won’t you?” said the girl. “It isn’t right not to take care of yourself. The wind is very raw to-night. Your cough will be much worse to-morrow if you go out in it. You ought to stay in for your mother’s sake, you know.”
    It was a bow drawn at a venture. Celia stole a glance
    at him. He looked up at her quickly, his handsome, gay face sober and almost startled.
    “But mother isn’t here,” he said, his voice husky. “She died a year ago.”
    “But don’t you think mothers care for their sons even after they have gone to heaven? I believe they do. I believe in some way God lets them know when they are doing right. You ought to take care of yourself just the same, even if she is not here, for, you know she would tell you to do it, now wouldn’t she?”
    “Yes, I know she would,” he answered, and then, after a minute’s pause, he added, “but it is so hard to stay in here. There is no place to sit and nothing to do all the evening. Mother used to have things different.”
    “It is hard,” said Celia, sympathizingly, “and this is a dreary place. I’ve thought so myself ever since I came. I wonder if you and I couldn’t make things a little pleasanter for us all, if we tried.”
    “How? I’m sure I never thought I could do anything in that line. How would you go about it?”
    “Well, I’m not just sure,” said Celia, thinking rapidly and bringing forth some of her half made plans to select one for this emergency. “But I think we ought to have a good light first. The gas is miserable.”
    “You’re right; it is that,” responded Mr. Knowles.
    “Didn’t I see a big lamp on the parlor table?”
    “Yes, I think there is a lamp there, but it smokes like an engine, and it gives a wicked flare of a light that stares at you enough to put your eyes out.”
    “Well, I wonder if we couldn’t do something to cure that lamp of smoking. I’m somewhat a doctor of lamps myself, having served a long apprenticeship at them, and I think if you’ll help me I’ll try. I have some lovely pink crepe paper upstairs that I got to make a shade for my room, but I’ll sacrifice that to the house if you can get me a new wick. What do you say? Shall we try it? I’m sure Mrs. Morris won’t object, for it will save gas, besides making things pleasanter for the boarders. I have a book I think you will enjoy, after the lamp is fixed for reading. If you are going to be a good boy and stay at home tonight I’ll bring it down.”
    The young man entered into the scheme enthusiastically. He was a very young man, not more than nineteen, or Celia would not have cared or dared to speak to him in this half-commanding way. But she had been used to boys, and to winning them to do what she wished, and she won her way this time surely. The young man was only too glad to have something to keep him in, and his heart was still very tender toward his lost mother. Celia saw that he would not be hard to influence. She wished she were wise and able to help him. Her soul felt with oppression the need of all these other souls in this house with her, and she wished to be great and mighty to lift them up and help them. How strange it was that the way kept opening up before her for daily helping of others. She seemed to be the only Christian in this house full of people. What a weight of responsibility rested upon her if that was so. How she ought to pray to be guided that she might be wise as a serpent and