THE EFFECTUAL FERVENT PRAYER
"O-o-o! Danny, oho-o-o! five o'clock!"
The clear young voice of Esther North floated across the snowy fields to the hill where the children of Glendour were coasting. Her brother Daniel, plodding up the trampled path beside the glairy track with half a dozen other boys, dragging the bob-sled on which his little sister Ruth was seated, heard the call with vague sentiments of dislike and rebellion. His twelve years rose up in arms against being ordered by a girl, even if she was sixteen and had begun to put up her hair and lengthen her skirts. She was a nice girl, to be sure—the prettiest in Glendour. But she might have had more sense than to call out that way before all the crowd. He had a good mind to pretend not to hear her.
But his comrades were not so minded. They had no idea of letting him evade the situation. They wanted him to stay, but he must do it like a man.
"Listen at your nurse already?" said one of the older lads mockingly; "she's a-callin' you. Run along home, boy!"
"Aw, no!" pleaded a youngster, not yet master of the art of irony. "Don't you mind her, Dan! The coast is just gettin' like glass, and you're the onliest one to steer the bob. You stay!"
"Please, Danny," said Ruth, keeping her seat as the sled stopped at the top of the hill, "only once more down! I ain't a bit tired."
"Dannee-ee-ee! O Danny!" came the sweet vibrant call again. "Five o'clock—come on—remember!"