instant flush of brightness to her face to understand those words and
feel that the Friend was hers. Then she glanced at the worker and
recognized his face. He had prayed for her. She could not forget _that_
face. It was plain also that his eyes fell on her. He knew her, and
something in her face prompted the low-toned sentence as be paused
before her: "You have found the Father, I think."

And Flossy, with brightening eyes, answered, quickly, "Yes, I have."

And then the boat touched at the wharf, and the crowd elbowed their way
out.

There were two opinions expressed about that excursion by two gentlemen
as they made their way up the avenue. One of the gentleman was clerical,
and spectacled, and solemn.

"There go a boat-load of excursionists," he said to his companion.

"They come, as likely as not delegates, from some church or
Sabbath-school, and the way they do their work is to go off for a frolic
and be gone all day. I saw them when I left this morning. That is a
specimen of a good deal of the dissipation that is going on here under
the guise of religion. I don't know about it; sometimes I am afraid more
harm than good will be done."

The other speaker was Mr. Charlie Flint, and as he rushed past these two
he said to _his_ companion, "Confound it all! Talk about getting away
from these meetings! It's no use; it can't be done. A fellow might just
as well stay here and run every time the bell rings. I heard more
preaching to-day on this excursion than I did yesterday; and a good deal
more astonishing preaching, too."

CHAPTER XI.

HEART TOUCHES.

Marion gave her hair an energetic twist as she made her toilet the next
morning, and announced her determination.

"This day is to be devoted conscientiously to the legitimate business
that brought me to this region. Yesterday's report will have to be
copied from the Buffalo papers, or made out of my own brain. But I'm
going to work to-day. I have a special interest in the programme for
this morning. The subject for the lecture just suits me."

"What is it?" Eurie asked, yawning, and wishing there was another
picnic in progress. Neither heart nor brain were particularly interested
in Chautauqua.

"Why, it is 'The Press and the Sunday-school.' Of course the press
attracts me, as I intend to belong to the staff when I get through
teaching young ideas."

"But what about the Sunday-school?" Ruth questioned, with a calm voice.
"You can not be expected