“One of our band is trying to build up a church in a lonely spot. She asks us to pray God’s help for her.”
Nettie’s outing went out farther than anyone knew. She could tell about her gifts and her letters, but never about her intercession.
“I wonder,” she planned, “if I couldn’t have a little Fair; all the girls would do something; I have so little money to give. I couldn’t go—unless I have it in my room.”
She wanted to wake Pet to talk about it, but that would be selfish, and then—Pet might be cross.
She fell asleep beside the strong young girl who lent her life from her own vitality; the full, breathing lips, the warm cheeks, the head with its masses of auburn hair, the touch of the hand upon her own were all life giving. Nettie loved girls; the girls who were what she might have been.
Awaking out of restless sleep, she remembered the Midnight Circle to pray for the sleepless, and prayed: “Father, give them all sleep, if thou wilt; but, if thy will be not so, give them all something better than sleep.”
XXXIV. “SENSATIONS.”
“Being fruitful in every good work, and increasing
in the knowledge of God.”
This same March night in the snow-storm the Bensalem preacher sat alone in his study among his books, with his thoughts among his people whom he loved.