nd upon the back of her chair, close to her shoulder;
she felt that he leaned down a little. She heard something in that
"Well, Ray," that she could not turn aside, though in an hour
afterward she would be taking herself to task that she had let it
seem like "anything."

"I was thinking," she said, quietly. "Yes, I think I could go. Thank
you, Frank."

Frank Sunderline was not sure, as he walked up Roulstone Street
afterward, whether Ray cared much. She made it seem all matter of
course, in a minute, with that calm, deliberate answer of hers. And
she sat so still, and let him go out of the room with hardly another
word or look. She never stopped sewing, either.

Well,--he did not see those ten stitches! He might not have been the
wiser if he had. They were not carpenter-work.

But Ray knew better than to pick them out, while her mother and Dot
were by.

That next day was made for them.

Days are made for separate people, though they shine or storm over
so many. Or the people are drifted into the right days; what is the
difference?

I must stop for the thought here, that has to do with this question
of rain and shine,--with need, and asking, and giving.

Prayers and special providences! Are these thrust out of the scheme,
because there is a scheme, and a steadfastness of administration in
God's laws? "No use to pray for rain, or the calming of the storm,
or a blessing on the medicine?" When it was all set going, was not
the _prayer_ provided for? It was answered a million of years
beforehand, in the heart of God, who put it into your heart and
nature to pray. Long before the want or the sin, the beseeching for
help or for forgiveness was anticipated; provision was made for the
undoing or the counteracting of the evil,--the healing of the
wrong,--just as it should be longed for in the needing and repenting
soul. The more law you have, the more all things come under its
foresight.

So, under the dear Law,--which is Love, and cares for the
sparrow,--came the fair October day, with its unflecked firmament,
its golden, conquering warmth, its richness of scent and color; and
they two went forth in it.

They went early, after dinner; so that the brightness might last
them home again; and because the Newriches, in their afternoon
drive, might be coming out from the city, perhaps, a little later,
to look at their waistcoat-pocket plaything.

Mrs. Ingraham turned away from the basement window with a long
breath, a