e is a better world beyond that awaits all who desire a better life.
Our desires are better than ourselves--mine are. Good desires are prayers,
and I think that they will all be answered some day."

She sat in silence, thinking of her lonely situation, of her ignorance and
imperfection, of her often baffled struggles to do well in this world and
to overcome her poor, weak self, and she burst into tears.

"Play," she said. "Music is a kind of prayer." And Gretchen touched the
musical glasses.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE LIFTED CLOUD--THE INDIANS COME TO THE SCHOOLMASTER.

The next day witnessed a strange scene at the log school-house on the
Columbia. It was a red October morning. Mrs. Woods accompanied Gretchen to
the school, as she wished to have a talk with Mr. Mann.

As the two came in sight of the house, Mrs. Woods caught Gretchen by the
arm and said:

"What's _them_?"

"Where?"

"Sittin' in the school-yard."

"They are Indians."

"Injuns? What are they there for?"

"I don't know, mother."

"Come for advice, like me, may be."

"Perhaps they are come to school. The old chief told them that I would
teach them."

"You?"

"They have no father now."

"No father?"

"No chief."

Mrs. Woods had been so overwhelmed with her own grief that she had given
little thought to the death of Benjamin and the chief of the Cascades. The
unhappy condition of the little tribe now came to her as in a picture;
and, as she saw before her some fifty Indians seated on the ground, her
good heart came back to her, and she said, touched by a sense of her own
widowhood, "Gretchen, I pity 'em."

Mrs. Woods was right. These Indians had come to seek the advice of Mr.
Mann in regard to their tribal affairs. Gretchen also was right. They had
come to ask Mr. Mann to teach their nation.

It was an unexpected assembly that Marlowe Mann faced as he came down the
clearing, but it revealed to him, at a glance, his future work in life.

The first of the distressed people to meet him was Mrs. Woods.

"O Mr. Mann, I am all alone in the world, and what am I goin' to do?
There's nothin' but hard days' work left to me now, and--hymns. Even
Father Lee has gone, and I have no one to advise me. You will be a friend
to me, won't you?"

"Yes," said Mr. Mann. "I need you, and the way is clear."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a letter from Boston."

"What is it, Marlowe Mann?"

"The Indian Educational Society have promised me a thou