And then like soothing balm there came to her familiar words,—
"Able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the throne—without spot or wrinkle or any such thing."
Oh, how blessedly the old verses learned in childhood came trooping to her groping thoughts, as if the Father were speaking them to her heart, while the train carried her on her way.
The long day was accomplished at last, a day during which both the women slept a good deal and talked a little, finding out common points of contact, common interests between one another, speaking of Daisy now and then; of Nelson Whitney occasionally; of Daisy's wonderful father; and Mrs. Sheldon's girlhood. As the night drew on and the lights began to appear, the two women began to feel as if they had known each other for years, and were bound by ties closer even than sisters might have been. Then there was the long night, to be waked through, thinking of the possibilities of the morrow.
"Now," said Mary Dunlap looking at her wristwatch the next morning after they had had breakfast, and come back to their section, in the sleeper, "it's quarter of nine. We shall be in, in three quarters of an hour, and take a taxi straight to Fifth Avenue if there isn't time to go to a hotel. Nothing opens in New York much before ten o'clock. Daisy got in last night, but all offices were closed. She couldn't have done anything till this morning, and she can't get there much ahead of us. At least if she does, she won't see him, for I'm sure he never comes down to the office before ten, and sometimes later. Take heart, sister, and trust the Father. He is managing this business, and I fancy He could have taken care of Daisy even if we hadn't come along. You know He manages a lot of things without us!"
Mrs. Sheldon blinked back the tears and smiled.
"I know," she said. "I'll try to rest on Him."
And then they began to draw near to the great city, and the two women put on hats and coats, and sat up ready for action. Who knew what the day had in store for them?
[CHAPTER VIII]
NELSON WHITNEY rang the bell of the Sheldon House at exactly quarter past eight the next morning. It was as early as he felt it would be at all courteous to disturb the household, especially as one of the members had not been feeling well the night before.