"Did you ever pray for anything you wanted very much?"
Cynthia's bright eyes studied the placid face before her.
"Yes," the lips murmured faintly.
"And did you get it?"
A flush stole over the puzzled countenance.
"My dear, God doesn't see as we do. And He knows what is best for us, and gives us that. Maybe our prayer wasn't right."
"How can you tell when a prayer is right or wrong?" inquired the young theologian.
"Why, you have to leave that to God;" in a low, resigned tone.
"I didn't want to come here. I wanted to stay with father. I didn't know there was any one beside, and I do not believe any one will ever love me so well. But he promised to come when the business was all done. So I prayed to the God of father's Bible, and I went to the temple with Nalla and put down a half-crown—it was all the money I had. But"—her eyes filled with tears and her voice had a break in it—"father begged so, and I came. But if Captain Corwin does not bring him next time I shall go back. I can't live without him."
The mild blue eyes of Miss Eunice filled with tears as well. She was not sure this had been the wisest course. The absolute truth was always best. But she temporized also in a vague fashion.