Montrose glanced at Alice and handed a piece of paper to the speaker. "Pay the rent with that, and use what is over to buy food and coal."
Mrs. Trevel grasped the banknote, with a vivid spot of colour on each faded cheek, and could scarcely speak in her excitement. "What is it: oh, what is it?"
"The answer to your prayer," said Alice, rising and looking solemn.
"My prayer! Why, it's a fifty-pound note. Oh, sir, I can't take such a large sum of money from you."
"It is not from me," said Montrose hastily. "I am merely the instrument. God sends the money because you asked Him to help you."
The tears fell down the worn old face. "And I told the passon as it wasn't no use praying," she moaned regretfully.
"Well, you see it is. He takes His own time and means, but in the end every petition receives the answer He deems best. Thank Him, Mrs. Trevel."
"I thank Him, and I thank you too, sir. Bless you, how the sight of this money do set my mind at rest. If it wasn't for Job and the contrary ways of that silly girl I'd be as happy as an angel."
"Pray for Job and Rose," advised Alice gently.
"Well, it do seem worth it, dearie. If He sends me this, He may turn Rose into a reasonable girl, which she isn't at present." Mrs. Trevel was about to put away her treasure-trove when she hesitated. "Should I take it, Miss Alice?"