st as could be, expecting every
moment would be my last."

"What dangerous work!" exclaimed Charlie. "I should think nobody durst
do it if they didn't know they had God to protect them and take care of
them."

"I'll see you to your work now," said Brownlee, turning the subject.
"Here we are," he said; "do you see this seat behind the door? then all
you've got to do is to sit here and pull that rope that opens the door
when the putters or any of the men want to come through. The boys stay
down twelve hours, but I'll see you again before I go up. It'll be
lonely for you at first," he said, kindly.

"Rather," said Charlie; "but I must remember that I am not alone."

Brownlee looked at him inquiringly.

"I mean, you know, that we are _never_ alone; that He is always with
us," said Charlie, simply, with an upward glance and movement of the
head.

"Oh, aye," said Brownlee, hesitatingly, and moving off, as if he felt it
was a subject he could not say much upon.

It was strange how that thought clung to the miner--not alone; not
alone! It haunted him, and often as he worked he glanced uneasily over
his shoulder into the darkness beyond, with a sort of feeling that he
was being watched--that there was a presence, an invisible something or
some one hovering near, and listening to his very thoughts.

It was quite a relief when a putter or any one came near that he could
speak to. Hudson Brownlee had known perfectly well ever since he was a
child that "God is everywhere," but he had never thought about it; he
was _realizing_ His presence for the first time, and it made him nervous
to feel that he was alone with God, who was powerful, and whom he had
neglected.

We must now go back to Charlie. His duty, if it was dull and lonely, was
simple and easily attended to. He had opened the door for a great many
boys and men, but he had not seen anything more of Bob White. Charlie
remembered he was an old enemy, and had often waylaid himself and the
other boys on their way to Mrs. Greenwell's class, and ridiculed them.
His saucy, mocking tongue made him the terror of most of the boys in the
mine. He had had the run of London streets for ten years, before his
mother removed into the north, and was more than a match for most of the
north country boys in a battle of words.

CHAPTER IX.

NOT ALONE.

Charlie's morning had passed away pretty well, and he began to think it
must be dinner time; at any rate he felt hungry, so