hem voraciously.

"Did you have any breakfast?" the Count asked, smiling.

"Yes," Beth answered.

"What did you have?"

"Milk and hot water and dry toast. I made the toast myself."

"No butter?"

"No. The butter's running short, so I wouldn't take any."

"When do you lunch?"

"Oh, we don't lunch. Can't afford it, you know. The boys have got to
be educated, and Uncle James Patten won't help, though Jim's his
heir."

Count Gustav looked at her little delicate hand lying on the coverlet,
and then at the worn little face.

"You've been crying," he said.

"Ah, that was only last night after I went to bed," Beth answered. "It
makes you cry when people aren't saved, doesn't it? Are you saved? If
you're not it will be awful for me."

"Why?"

"'Cos it would hurt so here to think of you burning in hell"--Beth
clasped her chest. "It always begins to ache here--in the evening--for
the people who aren't saved, and when I go to bed it makes me cry."

"Who told you about being saved, and that?"

"Aunt Victoria. She lives with us, you know. She's going away now to
pay a visit, because the boys are coming home, and Mildred, for the
holidays, and there wouldn't be room for her. I'm dreadfully sorry;
but I shall go to church, and read the Bible just the same when she's
away."

Count Gustav sat down on the end of the saloon-table and reflected a
little; then he said--"I wouldn't read anything, if I were you, while
Aunt Victoria's away. Just play about with Mildred and the boys, and
come out fishing with me sometimes. God doesn't want _you_ to save
people. He does that Himself. I expect He's very angry because you cry
at night. He thinks you don't trust Him. All He wants you to do is to
love Him, and trust Him, and be happy. That's the creed for a little
girl."

"Do you think so?" Beth gasped. Then she began to reflect, and her big
grey eyes slowly dilated, while at the same time a look of intense
relief relaxed the muscles of her pinched little face. "Do you think
so?" she repeated. Then suddenly she burst into tears.

Count Gustav, somewhat disconcerted, hurriedly handed her a
handkerchief.

Another gentleman came into the saloon at the moment, and raised
inquiring eyebrows.

"Only a little martyr, momentarily released from suffering, enjoying
the reaction," Count Gustav observed. "Come on deck, and let her
sleep. Do you hear, little lady, go to sleep."

Beth, docile to a fault when gently handled, nestled do