"Well, don't you worry. I'm going at the case at once, and I'll put those people where they'll have to walk a chalk line before many hours are over. The first thing I must do is to see those trustees of yours. Can you give me the names and addresses?"
He got out his fountain pen, and Betty told him all he wanted to know, that is, all she knew herself, and then suddenly it was train time and he hurried away. On the steps he paused and said in a low tone:
"Are you perfectly comfortable with these people for a few days until I can get you better accommodations where you will be safe?"
"Entirely," said Betty eagerly. "I wouldn't want to go elsewhere."
"But it must be very hard for one like you to be thrown constantly with illiterate, uncultured people."
Betty smiled dreamily:
"I don't think they are exactly uncultured," she said slowly. "They—well, you see, they make a friend of God, and somehow I think that makes a difference. Don't you think it would?"
"I should think it would," said Warren Reyburn reverently with a light in his eyes. "I think, perhaps, if you don't mind my saying it, that you, too, have been making a friend of God."
"I've been trying to," said Betty softly, with a shy glow on her face that he remembered all the way back to the city.