, dear! I wonder if you are right, and nothing is of
any consequence, anyhow?" And the weary girl turned on her pillow and
tried not to think, an effort that was hard to accomplish after a week's
experience at Chautauqua.

Flossy sat herself down beside the sleeping darling, and cast about her
for something to amuse or interest, her eyes brightening into beauty as
she recognized a worn and torn copy of the Bible. Eurie would have been
surprised to see the eagerness with which she seized upon the book that
was to afford her entertainment. She turned the leaves tenderly, with a
new sense of possession about her. This Bible was a copy of letters that
had been written to her--words spoken, many of them, by Jesus himself.
Strange that she had so little idea what they were! Marion, with her
boasted infidel notions, knew much more about "The Book" than Flossy
with her nominal Christian education and belief. She had no idea where
to turn or what to look for to help her. Yet she turned the leaves
slowly, with a delicious sense of having found a prize a--book of
instructions, a guide book for her on this journey that she was just
beginning to realize that she was taking. Somewhere within it she would
find light and help. The book was one that had been much used, and had a
fashion of opening of itself at certain places that might have been
favorites with the little mother. At one of those places Flossy halted
and read: "'After this there was a feast of the Jews.' After what, I
wonder?" she said within herself. She knew nothing about it. "Never
mind, I will see pretty soon. This is about a feast where Jesus was. And
Jesus went up to Jerusalem." "Oh, how nice to have been there, wherever
that was." The ignorant little thing had not the least idea where
Jerusalem was, except that it was in that far away, misty Holy Land,
that had seemed as vague and indefinite to her as the grave or as
heaven. But there came suddenly to her heart a certain blessed analogy.

"If I were going to write an account of my recent experiences to some
dear friend that I wanted to tell it to," she said, talking still to
herself, or to the sleeping baby, "I would write it something like this:
'After this'--That would mean; let me see what it _would_ mean. Why,
after that party at home, when I danced all night and was sick. 'After
this there was a feast of the Christian people at Chautauqua, and Jesus
went there.' I could certainly write that, for I have seen hi