There were many things said in that meeting, good and wise and true.  They might have been helpful to the girl if she had understood, but her thoughts had much to do.  One grain of truth she had gathered for her future use.  There was a “hiding” somewhere in this world, and she had had it in a time of trouble.  One moment more out upon the open, and the terrible man might have seen her.

There came a time of prayer in which all heads were bowed, and a voice here and there murmured a few soft little words which she did not comprehend; but at the close they all joined in “the prayer”; and, when she heard the words, “Our Father,” she closed her eyes, which had been curiously open and watching, and joined her voice softly with the rest.  Somehow it seemed to connect her safety with “our Father,” and she felt a stronger faith than ever in her prayer.

The young man listened intently to all he heard.  There was something strangely impressive to him in this simple worship out in what to him was a vast wilderness.  He felt more of the true spirit of worship than he had ever felt at home sitting in the handsomely upholstered pew beside his mother and sister while the choir-boys chanted the processional and the light filtered through costly windows of many colors over the large and cultivated congregation.  There was something about the words of these people that went straight to the heart more than all the intonings of the cultured voices he had ever heard.  Truly they meant what they said, and God had been a reality to them in many a time of trouble.  That seemed to be the theme of the afternoon, the saving power of the eternal God, made perfect through the need and the trust of His people.  He was reminded more than once of the incident of the morning and the miraculous saving of his own and his companion’s life.

When the meeting was over, the people gathered in groups and talked with one another.  The girl who had handed the book came over and spoke to the strangers, putting out her hand pleasantly.  She was the missionary’s daughter.

“What is this?  School?” asked the stranger eagerly.

“Yes, this is the schoolhouse,” said the missionary’s daughter; “but this meeting is Christian Endeavor.  Do you live near here?  Can’t you come every time?”

“No.  I live a long way off,” said the girl sadly.  “That is, I did.  I don’t live anywhere now.  I’m going away.”

“I wish you lived here.  Then you could come to our meeting.  Did you have a Christian Endeavor where you lived?”

“No.  I never saw one before.  It’s nice.  I like it.”

Another girl came up now, and put out her hand in greeting.  “You must come again,” she said politely.

“I don’t know,” said the visitor.  “I sha’n’t be coming back soon.”

“Are you going far?”

“As far as I can.  I’m going East.”

“O,” said the inquisitor; and then, seeing the missionary’s daughter was talking to some one else, she whispered, nodding toward the man, “Is he your husband?”