s the
preacher's words roused or subdued her.

Well, Eurie had her lesson. It was not from the Bible, it was not from
the preacher's lips except incidentally, but it was from a living
epistle. "Ye shall be witnesses of me," was the promise of Christ in the
long ago, just before the cloud received him out of sight. Is not that
promise verified to us often and often when we know it not?

Miss Rider had no means of knowing as she sat a listener that Sabbath
morning that she was witnessing for Christ. But she was just as surely
speaking for him as though she had stood up amid that throng and said:
"I love Jesus." "Ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord." And the poet has
said: "They also serve who only stand and wait." Blessed are those in
whom the waiting and the service go together.

CHAPTER XIX.

AN OLD STORY.

Meantime Flossy, deserted by her companion, made her way somewhat
timidly down to the stand, amazed by the great congregation of people
who had formed themselves into a Sunday-school. With all their haste the
girls had gotten a very late start. The opening exercises were all over,
and the numerous teachers were turning to their work. Strangely enough,
the first person whom Flossy's eye took in distinctly enough for
recognition was Mr. Roberts. He had recognized her, also, and was coming
toward her.

"How do you do this morning?" he said, holding out his hand. "Do you
know I have a mission for you? There are two boys who seem to belong to
nobody, and to have nothing in common with this gathering, except
curiosity. The superintendent has twice tried to charm them in, but
without success--they will come no further than that tree. I think they
have slipped in from the village, probably in a most unorthodox fashion,
and what I am coming at is, will you go out under the tree to them and
beguile them into attending a Sabbath-school for once in their lives?
They look to me as though it was probably a rare occurrence."

Now you are not to suppose that this invitation came to Flossy with the
same sound that it would have had to you, if Mr. Roberts had come to you
that Sabbath morning and asked you to tell those two boys a Bible story.
It is something that you have probably been doing a good deal of, all
your grown-up life, and two boys at Chautauqua are no more to you than
two boys anywhere else, except that there is a delightful sensation
connected with having a class-room out in the open air. But imagine
you