The children had become interested and were listening with hushed lips. "Why did they not all let it guide them?" breathlessly asked William. "Nothing can be more easy than to keep our eyes on a light that does not dazzle. What did you do, papa?"
"It seemed that the light would only shine on one step at a time," continued Mr. Halliburton, not in answer to William, but evidently absorbed in his own thoughts. "We could not see further than the one step, but that was sufficient; for the moment we had taken it, then the light shone upon another. And so we passed on, progressing to the end, the light seeming brighter and brighter as we drew near to it."
"Did you get to it, papa?"
"I am trying to recollect, William. I seemed to be quite close to it. I suppose I awoke then."
Mr. Halliburton paused, still in thought: but he said no more. Presently he turned to his wife. "Is it nearly tea-time, Jane? I cannot think what makes me so thirsty."
"We can have tea now, if you like," she replied. "I will go and see about it."
She left the room, and Janey ran after her. In the kitchen, making a great show and parade of being at work amidst plates and dishes, was a damsel of fifteen, her hair curiously twisted about her head, and her round, green eyes wide open. It was Betsy.
"That was good pudding," cried she, turning her face to Mrs. Halliburton. "Better than mother's."
She alluded to a slice which had been given her. Jane smiled. "We want tea, Betsy."
"Have it in directly, mum," was Miss Betsy's acquiescent response.