As the
reader came back to her former seat, with the pink on her cheek
deepened into warm crimson, the new comer greeted her with--
"Good-evening, Miss Fannie. Have you been finding work to do for the
Master?"
"Only a very little thing," she answered, with a voice in which there
was a slight tremble.
"I don't know about that, my dear." This was the old woman's voice.
"I'm sure I thank you a great deal. They're kind of startling
questions like; enough to most scare a body, unless you was trying
pretty hard, now ain't they?"
"Very solemn questions, indeed," answered the gentleman to whom this
question seemed to be addressed. "I wonder, if we were each obliged
to write truthful answers to each one of them, how many we should be
ashamed to have each other see?"
"How many would be ashamed to have _Him_ see?" The old woman spoke
with an emphatic shake of her gray head, and a reverent touch of he
pronoun.
"That is the vital point," he said. "Yet how much more ashamed we
often seem to be of man's judgment than of God's."
Then he turned suddenly to Ester, and spoke in a quiet, respectful
tone:
"Is the stranger by my side a fellow-pilgrim?"
Ester was startled and confused. The whole scene had been a very
strange one to her.
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