he Maidens' Lodge without falling in with any disturbing
element, such as either Rhoda or Molly would unquestionably have been.
Mrs Dorothy received them in her usual kindly manner, and gave them tea
before they entered on the subject of which both the young minds were
full. Then Gatty told her story, if very much the same terms as she had
given it to Phoebe.

"And I can't understand Phoebe, Mrs Dolly," she ended. "She says God
has given her Himself; and I cannot make it out. And she says she gives
her prayers to Jesus Christ to carry. I don't know what she means. It
sounds good. But I don't understand it--not one bit."

Mrs Dorothy came up to where Gatty was sitting, and took the girl's
head between her small, thin hands. It was not a beautiful face; but it
was pleasant enough to look on, and would have been more so, but for the
discipline which had crushed out of it all natural interest and youthful
anticipation, and had left that strange, strained look of care and
forced calm upon the white brow.

"Dear child," she said, gently, "you want rest, don't you?"

Gatty's grey eyes filled with tears.

"That is just what I do want, Mrs Dolly," she said, "somewhere where I
could be quiet, and be let alone, and just be myself and not somebody
else."

"Ah, my dear!" said Mrs Dorothy, shaking her head, "you never get let
alone in this world. Satan won't let you alone, if men do. But to be
yourself--that is what God wants of you. At least 'tis one half of what
He would have; the other half is that you should give yourself to Him."

"'Tis no good praying," said Gatty, as before.

"Did the Lord tell you that, my dear?"

"No!" said Gatty, looking up in surprise.

"Well, I would not say it till He does, child. But what did you pray
for?"

"I said all the collects over."

"Very good things, my dear; but were they what you wanted? I thought
you had a special trouble at this time."

"But what could I do?" asked Gatty, apparently rather bewildered.

"Dear child, thou couldst sure ask thy Father to help thee, without more
ado. But `bide a wee,' as my old friend, Scots Davie, was wont to say.
There is a great deal about prayer in the Word of God. Let us look at a
little of it." Little Mrs Dorothy trotted to her small work-table,
which generally stood at her side, and came back with a well-worn brown
Bible. Gatty watched her with a rather frightened look, as if she
thought that something was going to be done