"No, no," she whispered. "I have no friends but you and God; and I have doubted even his love until you told me that he would take me."
Nor could any argument prevail upon her to change her mind; her only answer was a shake of the head.
That evening, just after dusk, she whispered to her kind nurse, who sat by the bedside, "Won't you tell me your name, please?"
"They call me Mother Gray."
"And may I call you that too?"
"Yes honey, of course you may," answered the old woman. "Of course you may."
"And why do you cry, mother?" as the tears rolled down the wrinkled face. "Are you not glad that God is good to me? Oh, I forgot, you are afraid for me. You don't understand." And she turned her face away.
"Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Brother Cameron is coming to see you just as soon as he gets home. Would you like to talk to him?"
"Brother Cameron—Brother Cameron—I have no brother," she answered, turning to Mother Gray again. "Who is he?"
"Brother Cameron is our pastor; a minister you know."