The conversion of his fair pupil was the daily subject of Robin’s prayers, as of those of the other missionaries of Talwandi. As the youth looked now on Miranda’s lovely form and face, his whole heart rose in fervent supplication for her who had been so wonderfully brought to share Alicia’s home. Robin then, advancing towards Miranda, said, “What are you looking at, my little sister?”
“The rain—the good rain. See how the thirsty ground is drinking it in!”
“Who sends the good rain, little sister?”
Miranda folded her hands and looked upwards.
“Should we not thank God for the rain?” asked Robin.
“All thank God—trees, birds, earth,” was the reply.
“But we have more reason to thank God than have the trees, the birds, and the earth. Do you not remember what you have heard so often about the best, the greatest of gifts?”
Miranda looked down and did not reply.
Robin suddenly changed the conversation, while keeping the one point at which he was aiming in view.
“Miranda, I heard from your Kashmiri bhai yesterday.” A slight smile came to the girl’s lips, and she raised her head to listen. “Kripá Dé asked me to tell his sister that he never forgets that she saved his life by her timely warning.”