"May I speak to you a moment?" she asked.
"Yes, dear, gladly! I was wishing I might only meet you, for I saw you looking into the mission just now. Come with me to my room," and I placed my arm through hers.
"No, no!" she replied, "you wouldn't want my kind to visit you there."
"Indeed, I would, and do, dear child, so come along. Good night, Sister
Taylor. Remember us in your prayers." …
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and Anna had told me her story—her sad, sad story. Girls, you ought to hear it; so presently I'm going to relate it for your benefit, but first I want you to know that before we left my room, she had surrendered her future to her loving Savior. Before we were off of our knees, she, with the tears in her eyes, suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh! I quite forgot, I quite forgot. Let's go quickly. Poor Flora, my chum, is awful sick, and I came out to hunt her friend and take her some medicine." We hurried away.
* * * * *
There lay a dark-haired girl moaning and gaping for breath. She managed to inquire:
"Who's this, Anna? Who've you brought with you?"
Soon I was reassuring the poor sufferer, whilst endeavoring to make her more comfortable.