"I can't," she whispered, and the tears were in her eyes.
"Girls, I've brought some one with me today whom you all know and know well, but I see you do not recognize her." (A long silence.)
"Who is she?" some one asked. (Another long silence.)
"Show them who you are, Callie."
"Callie? Callie ——? Surely not, Mother Roberts. She was," etc., etc.
But she was showing them; choking down her sobs of joy, or rather, trying to, as she rolled up her sleeves to convince them. Even so, they found it very difficult to believe, very, very difficult.
I gladly retired to a remote part of the dormitory, a grateful observer temporarily forgotten, whilst Callie was being questioned and overhauled by about seventy delighted women and girls. They went into raptures of joy, they shouted, they wept, they hugged and kissed her, until she was obliged to say, "Sit down. I want to talk to you. Do, please."
Intense silence reigned whilst she related the wonderful story of her conversion and sanctification. There was not a dry eye present. Then she gave an invitation. Without one exception all responded and then knelt. She prayed—oh! how she prayed! and some of the women wet the boards with their tears whilst they, too, called upon Callie's Savior for pardon and mercy. How I wish we might have stayed there the remainder of the day! but we could not, for my time was limited. Feelingly and reluctantly we said our "farewells," promising to come at some future time if God so willed.
Before we left, they all lovingly inquired for Lucy, sending her many kind messages of love and remembrance.
When we returned to Mrs. Kincaid's quarters, she inquired if I should like to see a photo of Callie as she formerly looked?