CHAPTER NINETEEN

After Everett’s departure, Ann tripped into Floyd’s room in a happier state of mind than had been hers for several days.  It had been her habit to kneel beside the boy at night and send up a petition for his recovery.  Now she would thank God for his goodness to her,—­Everett had come to be more like himself, and Floyd’s welcoming smile sent a thrill of joy through her.  As Ann entered, Fledra looked up from her book.  Her pale, beseeching face drew Miss Shellington to her.

“Fledra dear, you study too late and too hard.  You don’t look at all well.”

“I keep tellin’ her that same thing, Sister Ann,” said Floyd; “but she keeps mutterin’ over them words till I know ’em myself.”

Miss Shellington turned Fledra’s face up to hers, smoothing down the dark curls.

“Go to bed, child; you’re absolutely tired out.  Kiss me goodnight, Dear.”

Fledra loitered in the hall until she heard Miss Shellington leave Floyd; then she stole forward.

“Will you come to my room a little while, Sister Ann?”

Without a word, Ann took the girl’s hand; together they entered the blue room.

Fledra wheeled about upon Miss Shellington, when the door had been, closed.

“Do you believe all those things you pray about, Sister Ann?” she appealed brokenly.

Ann questioned Fledra with a look; the girl made clearer her demand by adding: 

“Do you believe that Jesus hears you when you ask Him something you want very, very bad?”

She looked so miserable, so frail and lonely, that Ann put her arms about her.

“Sit down here with me, Fledra.  There!  Put your little tired head right here, and I’ll tell you all I can.”

“I want to be helped!” murmured Fledra.

“I’ve known that for sometime,” Ann said softly; “and I’m so happy that you’ve come to me!”

“It’s nothin’ you can do; but I was thinkin’ that perhaps Jesus could do it.”

Ann pressed the girl closer.

“Is it something you can’t tell me?”

Fledra nodded.

“And you can’t tell my brother?”

The girl’s nervous start filled Ann with dismay; for now she knew that the trouble rested with Horace.  She waited for an answer to her question, and at length Fledra, crestfallen, blurted out: 

“I can’t tell anybody but—­”

“Jesus?” whispered Ann.

“Yes; and I don’t know how to tell Him.”

Ann thought a moment.

“Fledra, if you wanted someone to do something for you, about which that person knew nothing, wouldn’t you have to tell it before it could be granted?”

Fledra nodded.

“Then, that’s what you are to do tonight.  You are to kneel down here when I am gone, and you are to feel positively sure that God will help, if you ask Him in Jesus’ name.  Do you think you have faith enough to do that?”