Again the Stranger smiled. “Yes, I know. You have always kept me out. You weep. Why? Do you not know that we should rejoice? Rejoice always.”

The man slowly withdrew his hand from the bell. “Rejoice! When she whom I love better than anything on earth is dying in the room above?”

The Unknown spoke, slowly and solemnly. “There is no death.”

The man caught up the words quickly. “No death! Queer talk! Of course there is. Do I not know? Have I not buried all I love but one, and now they tell me that she too must go and that I must be reconciled—that it is the will of God. If there is a God that is His will, then He is cruel!”

The Stranger shook his head. “There is a God—a Father of Love—a most wonderful Love. Do you not know this?” His voice, dropping, seemed to sadden, “Has my work then all been in vain? Have you prayed, my friend?”

The man was bitter. “To what?”

“God.” The word itself was a benediction.

The rich one sneered. “I got over that superstition years ago. I prayed then, beseeched, yea, and offered all I had.”

The Unknown was stern. “God is not tempted by any man.”

Despairingly the man spoke. “I pray no more. It is useless.”

His Guest corrected him gently. “You do pray. All men do. Every desire a man has is but after all a prayer.”

The rich man shivered as though an icy wind had swept over him. “Who are you?”

The Uninvited Guest’s answer was low. “A Stranger within your gates.”

Startled, the rich man rose. “Are you the new doctor? You are—you are a physician?”

The Stranger shook His head. “Not I, but the Father; I come in His name.”