hat she doubted much whether there
were one person living who had ever before earnestly asked God to make
her his child.

That was what this prayer was asking. She lifted the white sleeve of her
gown, and wiped away tear after tear as the pleading voice went on.
Very still she was. It seemed to her that she must not lose a syllable
of the prayer, for here at last was the help she had been seeking,
blindly, and without knowing that she sought, all this long, heavy day.
Help? Yes, plain, clear, simple help. How small a thing it seemed to do!
"Show her her need of thee, blessed Jesus," thus the prayer ran. And oh!
_hadn't_ he showed her that? It flashed over her troubled brain then and
there: "It is Jesus that I need. It is he who can help me. I believe he
can. I believe he is the only one who can." This was her confession of
faith. "Then lead her to ask the help of thee that she needs. Just to
come to thee as the little child would go to her mother, and say,
'Jesus, take me; make me thy child.'" Only that? Was it such a little,
_little_ thing to do? How wonderful!

The praying ceased, and the young man who had remembered the stranger to
whom God had given him a chance to speak during the day, all unconscious
that other ear than God's had heard his words of prayer, laid himself
down to quiet sleep. Flossy lay very still. The rain had ceased during
the afternoon, and now some solemn stars were peeping in through the
chinks in the tent and the earth was moon-lighted. She raised herself on
one elbow and looked around on her companions. How soundly asleep they
were!

Another few minutes of stillness and irresolution. Then a white-robed
figure slipped softly and quietly to the floor and on her knees, and a
low-whispered voice repeated again and again these words:

"Jesus, take me; make me thy child."

It wasn't very long afterward that she lay quietly down on her pillow,
and earth went on exactly as if nothing at all had happened--knew
nothing at all about it--even the sleeper by her side was totally
ignorant of the wonderful tableau that had been acted all about her that
evening. But if Eurie Mitchell could have had one little peep into
heaven just then what _would_ her entranced soul have thought of the
music and the enjoyment there? For what _must_ it be like when there is
"joy in the presence of the angels in heaven"?

CHAPTER IX.

FLEEING.

The next morning every one of them ran away from the meeting. The