he tea, but the sugar-paper had proved quite empty when he found it;
likewise a plate that had once contained butter.

The toast and tea, however, seemed to be quite acceptable without its
usual accessories. "Now," he said, with a long breath, "is there
anything else you'd like done before I go?--for I must be getting back
to college."

"If you just wouldn't mind makin' a prayer before you go," responded the
little old woman, wistfully, her feeble chin trembling with her
boldness. "I be'n wantin' a prayer this long while, but I don't seem to
have good luck. The distric' nurse, she ain't the prayin' kind; an' Mr.
Widymer he says he don't pray no more since he's come to college. He
said it so kind of ashamed-like I didn't like to bother him again; and
there ain't anybody else come my way for three months back. You seem so
kind-spoken and pleasant-like as if you might be related to a preacher,
and I thought mebbe you wouldn't mind just makin' a little short prayer
'fore you go. I dunno how long it'll be 'fore I'll get a chancet of one
again."

Courtland stood rooted to the floor in dismay. "Why,--I--" he began,
growing red enough to be apparent even by the flickering inch of candle.

Suddenly the room which had been so empty seemed to grow hushed and full
of breathless spectators, and One, waiting to hear what he would
say--whether he would respond to the call. Before his alarmed vision
there came the memory of that wall of smoke which had shut him in, and
that Voice calling him by name and saying, "You shall be shown." Was
this what the Presence asked of him? Was this that mysterious "doing His
will" that the Book spoke about, which should presently give the
assurance?

He saw the old woman's face glow with eagerness. It was as if the
Presence waited through her eyes to see what he would do. Something
leaped up in his heart in response and he took a step forward and
dropped upon his knees beside the old wooden chair.

"I'm afraid I shall make a worse bungle of it than I did of the toast,"
he said, as he saw her folding her hands with delight. She smiled with
serene assurance, and he closed his eyes and wondered where were words
to use in such a time as this.

"Now I lay me" would not do for the poor creature who had been lying
down many days and might never rise again; "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and
John" was more appropriate, but there was that uncertainty about it
being a prayer at all. "Our Father"--Ah! He caught at