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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

I whispered that
everything was all right. A moment later we heard a sound in the big
room, and peered in, and saw a door at the far end open--and there
was Carpenter, standing with his white robes gleaming in the light.
After a moment I realized that they gleamed even more than was
natural; I perceived once more that strange "aura" which had been
noticed at the mass-meeting; and by means of it I noticed an even
more startling thing. There were drops of sweat on Carpenter's
forehead, as always when he had labored intensely in his soul. This
time I saw that the drops were large, and they were drops of blood!
A trembling seized me. I was awe-stricken before this man--afraid to
go on with what I was doing, and equally afraid to back out. I
remained staring helplessly, and saw him approach the sleeping
figures, and stand looking at them. "Could you not watch with me one
hour?" he said, in his gentle, sad voice; and he put his hand on
Comrade Abell's shoulder, with the words: "The time has come."
Abell started to his feet, and began to apologize.


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