Cadman looked at her in silence,—then he stood up and took her hands.
"Come Betty, let us get home now,—you'll be tired, working your brain and body on this your first day out!"
So hand in hand they walked home, not saying much,—Cadman wishing he could linger one week longer in this primitive little town, and Betty feeling vaguely sad at the thought of parting with her new found friend.
*****
Alone in her room, Betty stood gazing at herself in her mirror. She saw a tear-stained face and dejected countenance with large, sad eyes.
"Now, Betty Emmit," she said to herself, in a low sobbing voice, "Will it do you one bit of good to cry? That won't bring him back. He's gone, gone, gone! You might as well dry your tears, and brace up and try to be of some use to somebody. Just a few years and you'll go to New York—a real grown young lady, and who knows? Maybe—" here a smile flashed across her tear stained face and Betty blushed.
Then she took from her bureau a photo of her ideal friend. Dr. Cadman's eyes seemed to smile at her re-assuringly.
"Yes, stranger things have happened," she said feeling a little less unhappy. "I must pray every night that God will make it possible!"
To Betty, God was her constant ever-present friend, and her every desire went straight to the Heavenly Throne, so tonight, what she would not have breathed to her mother, was as naturally spoken of in prayer as her most ordinary desire!
And so she undressed for bed, and before seeking rest, she knelt down in the moonlight and with her usual prayers added tremulously, "Dear Father, you know how I love him. Someday let me be his wife for all eternity!" One hour later, Mrs. Emmit peeped in to discover Betty fast asleep with Dr. Cadman's picture clasped close to her breast. The moonlight made sweeter the smile on Betty's face.