frightened Elsie
most. She didn't like the look of Duncan at all. He had been getting
worse all day while they were in the train, and now he did not seem to
notice anything or anybody. His eyes were closed, and he never spoke a
word, but only gave a sort of little moan now and then. He was burning
hot too, and he moved his head and his limbs about restlessly, as if
they were in pain. Elsie wondered whether he was really very ill, and
what ought to be done for him. No one seemed to take any notice or think
that he required any attention; and what could she do?

I do think that when children run away from a good kind home and
watchful loving guardians, God must be very angry with the hardness of
heart and wilful ingratitude that can lead them to do such a wicked
thing, and I have no doubt that He purposely let all these difficulties
and terrors fall in Elsie's path in order to punish her. Children, even
big ones, have little idea of the dreadful dangers there are waiting for
them to fall into, or how soon some shocking disaster would happen to
them if they had not such careful, kind protectors. I am afraid, too,
that people who write books often hide such things, and only tell of the
wonderful escapes and marvellous adventures that runaway children
encounter, although they know that really and truly the most dreadful
things have happened to children who have run away from their
homes--things too dreadful for me to tell of. We know that the Gentle
Shepherd has a special care for little lambs of His flock, but we can
never expect God to take care of us when we have wilfully turned away
from Him to follow our own wrongdoing, and refused to turn back. If the
lambs will not listen to the voice of the Shepherd, but will stray far
away from Him, they are likely to be lost.

Now, He had already spoken to Elsie many times since she had left home.
Her conscience, which is really His voice, had told her frequently that
she was doing wrong, and that it would end badly; but she had refused to
hear. Even now, when she had really begun to wish she were back again,
it was because of the discomfort she was suffering, much more than on
account of any belief that she had done a very wicked thing. But God is
never content with such a grudging, half repentance as that, and so it
was that Elsie fell into worse trouble still.

I wish I could describe to you how utterly forlorn and miserable Elsie
felt, standing there by poor Duncan's bed, wat