hing was arranged to their
satisfaction--or, as Ruth expressed it, "to their endurance" for the
night.

Three of the girls were sleeping quietly, their fun and their
discontents alike forgotten, but Flossy tossed wearily on her bed,
turned her pillow and turned it back again, and sought in vain for a
quiet spot. With the silence and the darkness her unrest had come upon
her again with tenfold force. She felt no nearer a solution of her
trouble than she had in the morning; in fact, the pain had deepened all
day, and the only definite feeling she had about it now was that she
could not live so; that something must be done; that she must get back
to her home and her old life, where she might hope to forged it all and
be at peace again.

Into the quiet of the night came a firm, manly step, and the movement of
chairs right by her side, so at least it seemed to her. All unused to
tent life as she was a good deal startled she raised herself on one
elbow and looked about her in a frightened way before she realized that
the sounds came from the tent next to theirs. Before her thoughts were
fairly composed they were startled anew; this time with the voice of
prayer.

Very distinct the words were on this still night air; every sentence as
clear as though it had really been spoken in the same tent. Now, there
was something peculiar in the voice; clearly cut and rounded the words
were, like that of a man very decided, very positive in his views, and
very earnest in his life. There was also a modulation to the syllables
that Flossy could not describe, but that she felt And she knew that she
had heard that voice twice before, once on the boat the evening before
and once as they jostled together in the crowd on their way to dinner.

She felt sorry to be unwittingly a listener to a prayer that the maker
evidently thought was being heard only by his Savior. But she could not
shut out the low and yet wonderfully distinct sentences, and presently
she ceased to wish to, for it became certain that he was praying for
her. He made it very plain. He called her "that young girl who said
to-day that she could not think of thee as her Father; who seems to want
to be led by the hand to thee."

Did you ever hear yourself prayed for by an earnest, reverent, pleading
voice? Then perhaps you know something of Flossy's feelings as she lay
there in the darkness. She had never heard any one pray for her before.
So destitute was she of real friends t