"Don't you suppose God cares?" asked Herbert, upon whose mind the thought had just flashed that he had never asked God any such thing.
"I don't know; but if He cares enough to interfere, He will do so without your asking."
"Don't you believe in prayer?" questioned Herbert, in a troubled tone.
"I don't disbelieve in it. I suppose it has its place and its uses; but I don't believe that it will make any difference with your business arrangements whether you pray about them or not. Now didn't you pray over that affair at Mr. Wynn's store and you got your leave of absence for all that!—And I suppose you prayed when you went to Dayton's, and when you were in New York, and yet here you are without a situation, no better off than as if you had never prayed at all."
"What do you think prayer is for, then?"
"Why, I suppose that some people find comfort in it," returned Lewie. "I suppose you do, and Mr. Earle, and my father. I suppose there is such a thing as a kind of communion with God, and I presume that people who are so privileged gain spiritual strength, and that helps them over hard places. I know father smooths the tangles out every morning so far as they concern him; but as for things really being any different, I never could see that. Now, Herbert, did you ever get what people call a direct answer to prayer?" Lewie asked presently, and Herbert replied,—
"Yes, more than once—answers so direct that no power on earth could convince me that I was mistaken. I'll tell you of one instance which I think was remarkable. It was connected with the lawsuit against the widow Blake's place. You remember that it was Tom Allan's testimony that proved her claim. Father was her lawyer, and he had been very much troubled, because nobody knew what had become of Tom Allan. He hadn't been heard from in five or six years, and there was no hope unless he could be found.
"I felt so sorry for Aunty Blake that I couldn't keep the matter out of my mind; and I began to pray about it, asking God to let the truth come out by revealing Tom's hiding place. One day mother sent me over across the river to see if old Betsy could come and clean house. The old lady was trying to read a letter from her boy Jake, and as her eyes were poor, she asked me to read it for her. I fairly shouted over it.
"He said, 'Tom Allan turned up here the other day, and we have gone into partnership,' &c.
"I forgot all about the house-cleaning, and rushed up to the office. Father says I came in like a whirlwind. Now you need not tell me that it just happened, because I don't believe it. Betsy said she hadn't heard from Jake before almost in two years, but you see that letter came just at the right time."