ildren's pleasant
clatter, resolved to forget the fear and to trust all to Him who cared
for her. Perhaps he had sent the pleasant stranger, and the thought
brought a quiet little smile to settle about her lips. She laughed with
Bob and Emily at how they had got wet with a sudden unexpected shower
from the new bath while they were arranging the curtain on the rod, and
Emily had turned the faucet on without knowing it. The patient-eyed
mother watched them all and was satisfied.

How good it is that we cannot hear all the noises of the earth at the
same time, nor know of every danger that lurks near as we are passing
by! We grumble a great deal that God does not send us as much as we
think he might, but we give scarce a thought to our escape from the many
perils, lying close as our very breath, of which we never even dream.

At that moment, as they sat quietly eating their happy meal, a deadly
particular peril was headed straight for Tinsdale.

Abijah Gage and Herbert Hutton boarded the evening train for Tinsdale
together and entered the sleeper. Abijah shuffled behind, carrying the
bags, a most extraordinary and humiliating position for him. He had
never been known to carry anything, not even himself if he could help
it, since the day his mother died and ceased to force him to carry in
wood and water for her at the end of a hickory switch. He glanced
uneasily round with a slight cackle of dismay as he arrived in the
unaccustomed plush surroundings and tried to find some place to dump his
load. But the well-groomed Herbert strode down the long aisle unnoticing
and took possession of the section he had secured as if he owned the
road.

"You can sit there!" he ordered Bi with a condescending motion, dropping
into his own seat and opening a newspaper.

Bi sat down on the edge of the seat, and held on to the arm in a
gingerly way as if he were afraid to trust himself to anything so
different. He looked furtively up and down the car, eyed the porter, who
ignored him contemptuously and finally came back and demanded his
sleeper ticket with a lordliness that Bi did not feel he could take from
a negro. But somehow the ticket got tangled in his pocket, and Bi had a
hard time finding it, which deepened his indignation at the porter.

"I ain't takin' no sass from no one. My seat's paid fer all right," he
said distinctly for the enlightenment of the other passengers, and
Herbert Hutton reached out a discreet arm and dropped som