ongregation sang the Gospel hymn, and so
happy was she watching him that she looked sideways slyly to his seat as
with bowed head she listened to the prayer.

"Bless all Thy people, Lord," the preacher was saying, his rich,
powerful voice filling the great church like the notes of the organ. "We
ask Thy blessing upon us in this our hour of worship. Bless those who
live in our midst and those who have come from afar. May they be guided
by Thy voice and profited by Thy holy word. Bless all those who are in
any ways in affliction or in distress. Send them Thy heavenly light that
shines in the eternal brightness of Thy countenance and make plain to
them the way of salvation."

"I have come from afar," Hertha thought, "and I surely need guidance."
And in reverent attitude she strove to secure the blessing of which the
preacher spoke. But the church with its dark-faced congregation recalled
her past, and the past brought continually back to her her present
problem. She looked over toward Tom and smiled to think that the boy,
who when a baby, she had hushed as he lay cuddled up to her in church,
should be one to whom she went for counsel. She only dimly realized that
to her he was not only her brother, but also the member of a race that
she understood better than she as yet understood the white race of which
she was now a part. Before the service was over and the preacher's voice
gave its last "Amen," she found that the familiar scene, the religious
phraseology with its well-worn metaphor but also with its vivid beauty,
stirred her to tragic homesickness and brought the hot tears to her
eyes.

"Tom!" She had slipped from the detaining hand of the Missionary Sister,
a large middle-aged woman who welcomed her effusively to the church, and
stopped her boy as he reached the door.

He looked at her in astonishment. "There ain't nothing happened?" he
asked in alarm.

"Oh, no," she answered, laughing nervously and moving to one side to let
the people pass. "Only that I need to talk with you."

"I don't know where we can go." He stood perplexed, his forehead drawn
in thought. His first alarm over it seemed to Hertha that he did not
wish to see her and she was hurt to the quick.

"We can walk in the square."

Tom shook his head.

"Yes we can!" she declared, the tears in her eyes. "We've often walked
out together." The service with the memories that it called up had
shaken her. She had felt her lips trembling more than once t