But for the first time, the girl was out of tune with her surroundings. She kept hearing the young preacher's penetrating voice.
"My friends, what prompted that young lady to stop? It was the Spirit of God, working in this great city of worldliness."
"Was that true?" she asked herself. "What prompted me to stop?" She couldn't tell. She just wanted to. But how novel an experience! She liked it. She would like to know that preacher. He was different to her gentlemen friends. Novelty always appealed to Venna. Well, she couldn't know him. So it was no use thinking about it, she wisely decided.
But on kneeling down to say her prayers before retiring that night, she added simply,
"Dear Father in heaven, help the young street preacher in his wonderful mission work for Thee."
The next morning Venna slept late. She awoke with a confused idea that her dream was truly real, in which she saw a great throng of people in front of her home, she herself standing at the door-way, begging them to come no farther.
She knew they were coming in search of the young street preacher, and that he was hiding in her house somewhere.
But the crowd was pressing forward. In vain she remonstrated with them. Forcibly closing the door, she locked it securely. Then she turned with bated breath, to see the young missionary by her side, hat in hand, smiling down at her composedly.
"You are safe!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"Thank you. But do not fear for me. God takes care of His own. However, I will never forget this kindness. It is the Spirit of God in your heart."