ry determination coming back to him.

"What's the use," he muttered, "of a fellow lying shivering here; if I
can't sleep, I might as well give it up first as last I'll go down to
the parlor, and whistle 'Yankee Doodle,' or something else until train
time."

But his hand trembled so in his attempt to strike a light, that he
failed again and again. Finally he was dressed, and went out into the
hall. Mr. Roberts opened his own door at that moment, and seeing the boy
gave him what he thought would be a happy message:

"Tode, you can sleep over to-night. Jim is on hand, and you may be ready
for the five o'clock train."

No excuse now for going down stairs, and the wretched boy crept back to
his room; _utterly_ wretched he felt, and he had no human friend to help
him, no human heart to comfort him. He wrapped a quilt about him and sat
down on the edge of his bed to calculate how long his bit of candle
would probably burn, and what he _should_ do when he was left once more
in that awful darkness. On his table lay a half-burnt lamp lighter. He
mechanically untwisted it, and twisted it up again, busy still with that
fearful sentence: "The eyes of the Lord are in _every_ place." The
lighter was made of a bit of printed paper, and Tode could read. The
letters caught his eye, and he bent forward to decipher them; and of all
precious words that can be found in our language, came these home to
that troubled youth: "Look unto me and be ye saved, all--" Just there
the paper was burned. No matter, be ye _saved_, that was what he wanted.
He felt in his inmost soul that he needed to be saved, from himself, and
from some dreadful evil that seemed near at hand. Now how to do it? The
smoke-edged bit of paper said, "Look unto me." Who was that blessed
_Me_, and where was he, and how could Tode look to him?

Quick as lightning the boy's memory went back to that evening in the
chapel, and the wonderful story of one Jesus, and the gray-haired man
in the corner, who stood up and shut his eyes, and spoke to Jesus just
as if he had been in the room. Perhaps, oh, _perhaps_, the All-seeing
Eye belonged to him? No, that could not be, for that card said, "The
eyes of the Lord," and Tode knew that meant God, but you see he knew
nothing about that blessed Trinity, the three in One. Then he remembered
his question to Dora: "Who is Jesus, anyhow?" and her answer: "Why, he
is God." What if it should in some strange way all mean God? Couldn't he
try? Su