"What is it?" she whispered.

"Why, I suspect it is a Sunday school or something of the kind."

"O! A school! Could we go in?"

"If you like," said the man, enjoying her simplicity. "We can tie out

horses here behind the building, and they can rest. There is fresh grass

in this sheltered place; see?"

He led her down behind the schoolhouse to a spot where the horses could

not be seen from the trail. The girl peered curiously around the corner

into the window. There sat two young girls about her own age, and one of

them smiled at her. It seemed an invitation. She smiled back, and went on

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to the doorway reassured. When she entered the room, she found them

pointing to a seat near a window, behind a small desk.

There were desks all over the room at regular intervals, and a larger desk

up in front. Almost all the people sat at desks.

There was a curious wooden box in front at one side of, the big desk, and

a girl sat before it pushing down some black and white strips that looked

like sticks, and making her feet go, and singing with all her might. The

curious box made music, the same music the people were singing. Was it a

piano? she wondered. She had heard of pianos. Her father used to talk

about them. O, and what was that her mother used to want? A

"cab'net-organ." Perhaps this was a cab'net-organ. At any rate, she was

entranced with the music.

Up behind the man who sat at the big desk was a large board painted black

with some white marks on it. The sunlight glinted across it, and she could

not tell what they were; but, when she moved a little, she saw quite

clearly it was a large cross with words underneath it--"He will hide me."

It was a strange place. The girl looked around shyly, and felt submerged

in the volume of song that rolled around her, from voices untrained,

perhaps, but hearts that knew whereof they sang. To her it was heavenly

music, if she had the least conception of what such music was like.

"Glory," "glory," "glory!" The words seemed to fit the day, and the

sunshine, and the deliverance that had come to her so recently. She looked

around for her companion and deliverer to enjoy it with him, but he had

not come in yet.

The two girls were handing her a book now and pointing to the place. She

could read. Her mother had taught her just a little before the other

children were born, but not much in the way of literature had ever come in

her way. She grasped the book eagerly, hungrily, and looked where the

finger pointed. Yes, there were the words. "Glory for me!" "Glory for me!"

Did that mean her? Was there glory for her anywhere in the world? She

sighed with the joy of the possibility, as the "Glory Song" rolled along,

led by the enthusiasm of one who had recently come from a big city where

it had been sung in a great revival service. Some kind friend had given

some copies of a leaflet containing it and a few other new songs to this

little handful of Christians, and they were singing them as if they had

been a thousand strong.




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