in gentleman, Harold Wayne by
name, who had walked with them, walked especially with Ruth, down to
the depot on the morning of departure, who had toyed with her fan and
complained that he could not imagine what they were going to bury
themselves out there for? Ruth thought of him now, and the contrast
between his lazily exquisite air and drawling words and the fresh,
earnest life that glowed in this young man's veins brought a positive
quiver of disgust over her handsome face. There was no shadow of a smile
upon it now. Instead, she felt a nameless dread. How strange the talk
had been! To what had she committed herself by her silence and his
blunders? _She_ pray for any one! What a queer thing that would be to
do. _She_ anxious that any one should be led by the spirit of God! The
spirit of God frightened her. For whom would this young man pray? Not
certainly for any friend of hers; yet he would put the name of some
stranger in his prayers. He was thoroughly in earnest, and he was the
sort of a man to do just what he said. God, he had said, would
understand whom he meant. For whom would God count those prayers? For
her? And that thought also frightened her.

"They are all lunatics, I verily believe, from the leaders to the
followers," she said in irritation, and then she wished herself at home.
During the remainder of the day she was engaged in trying to shake off
the impression that the stranger had left upon her. Go where she would,
say what she might, and she really exerted herself to be brilliant and
entertaining, there followed her around the memory of those great,
earnest eyes when he said, "I will add the name to my list for special
prayer." What name? He knew hers. He would say, doubtless, "Her friend
for whom she was anxious." But the one to whom he prayed would know
there was no such person. What would _He_ do with that earnest prayer?
For she knew it would be earnest. She was not used to theological mazes,
and if ever a girl was heartily glad when a day of pleasuring was over,
and the boat had touched again at the Chautauqua wharf, it was Ruth
Erskine.

As for Flossy, it so happened that Charlie Flint, after Marion had
startled and disgusted him, sought refuge with her. She was pretty and
dainty, and did not look strong-minded; not in the least as if her
forte was to preach, so he made ready to have a running fire of small
talk with her.

This had been Flossy's power in conversation for several years. He ha