of that cold
chicken left, Mother? And a few doughnuts and milk? And say, Mother, we
better get the chores done up and get to bed early. I don't think you
slept much last night, and we've got to get up early. There's a whole
lot to do before she comes. We need to chirk up the rest of the house a
bit. Somehow we've let things get down since Stephen went away."

Said Mother, as she landed the platter of cold chicken on the table,
"How soon do you s'pose she'll write? I'm just aching to get that
letter!"

CHAPTER XX

Gila had counted on an easy victory that evening. She had furnished for
the occasion her keenest wit, her sweetest laughter, her finest
derision, her most sparkling sarcasm; and as she and her escort joined
the motley throng who were patiently making their way into the packed
doorway she whetted them forth eagerly.

Even while they took their turn among the crowd she began to make keen
little remarks about the company they were keeping, drawing her velvet
robes away from contact with the throng.

Courtland, standing head and shoulders above her, his fine profile
outlined against the brightness of the lighted doorway, was looking
about with keen interest on the faces of the people, and wondering why
they had come. Were they in search of the Presence? Had they, too, felt
it there within those dingy walls? He glanced down at Gila with a hope
that she, too, might see and understand to-night. What friends they
might be--how they might talk these things over together--if only Gila
would understand!

He wished she had had better sense than to array herself in such
startling garments. He could see the curious glances turned her way;
glances that showed she was misunderstood. He did not like it, and he
reached down a protecting hand and took her arm, speaking to her
gravely, just to show the bold fellows behind her that she was under
capable escort. He did not hear her keen sallies at the expense of their
fellow-worshipers. He was annoyed and trying by his serious mien to
shelter her.

The singing was already going on as they entered. Just plain old gospel
songs, sung just as badly, though with even more fervor, than in the
morning. Courtland accepted the tattered hymn-book and put Gila into the
seat the shabby usher indicated. He was wholly in the spirit of the
gathering, and anxious only to feel the spell once more that had been
about him in the morning. But Gila was so amused with her surroundings