n with dismay; for now she knew that
the trouble rested with Horace. She waited for an answer to her
question, and at length Fledra, crestfallen, blurted out:

"I can't tell anybody but--"

"Jesus?" whispered Ann.

"Yes; and I don't know how to tell Him."

Ann thought a moment.

"Fledra, if you wanted someone to do something for you, about which that
person knew nothing, wouldn't you have to tell it before it could be
granted?"

Fledra nodded.

"Then, that's what you are to do tonight. You are to kneel down here
when I am gone, and you are to feel positively sure that God will help,
if you ask Him in Jesus' name. Do you think you have faith enough to do
that?"

"I don't know what faith is," replied Fledra in a whisper.

"I'll tell you what it is, Dear. Now, then, don't you remember how my
brother and I prayed for Floyd?"

Fledra pressed Ann's arm.

"And don't you remember, Dear, that almost immediately he was helped?"

"You had a doctor," said Fledra slowly.

"Yes, for a doctor is God's agent for the good of mankind; but we had
faith, too. And in something like this--Is your trouble illness?"

"Only here," answered Flea, laying her hand upon her heart.

Ann could not force Flea's confidence; so she said:

"Then if it is impossible to confide in Horace, or in me, will you pray
tonight, fully believing that you will be answered? You must remember
how much Jesus loved you to come down to suffer and die for you."

"I don't believe I thought that story was true, Sister Ann." Fledra drew
back, and looked up into Ann's shocked face as she spoke, "I shouldn't
say I believed it if I didn't, should I?"

"No, Darling; but you must believe--you surely must! You must promise me
that you will pray first for faith, then for relief, and tomorrow you
will feel better."

"I promise," answered Fledra.

For many minutes after Ann had left her, the girl lay stretched out upon
the bed. Her heart pained her until it seemed that she must go directly
to Horace and confess her secret.

She got up slowly at last, and, kneeling, began a whispered petition. It
was broken by sobs and falling tears, by writhings that tore the tender
soul offering it.

Fledra prayed for Horace, and then stopped.

After a time she rose, having done all a girl could do for those she
loved, and, undressing, slowly crawled into bed. Through the darkness as
she lay looking upward she tried to imagine what kind of a being God
was, wondering if