Captain Filbert looked at her superior officer with astonishment.
“I have entreated him to come to the meetings. But he never attends a Believers' Rally. Why should he?”
“What's his state of mind? He came to see you, didn't he, the other night?”
“Yes, he did. I don't think he's altogether careless.”
“Ain't he seeking?”
“He wouldn't admit it, but he may not know himself. The Lord has different ways of working. What else should bring him, night after night?”
Mrs. Sand glanced meaningly at a point on the floor, with lifted eyebrows, then at her officer, and finally hid a badly-disciplined smile behind her baby's head. When she looked back again Laura had flushed all over, and an embarrassment stood between them, which she felt was absurd.
“My!” she said,—scruples in breaking it could hardly perhaps have been expected of her,—“you do look nice when you've got a little colour. But if you can't see that it's you that brings him to the meetin's, you must be blind, that's all.”
Captain Filbert's confusion was dispelled, as by the wave of a wand.
“Then I hope I may go on bringing him,” she said. “He couldn't come to a better place.”