“Oh, dear Master of the World and of this little house,” prayed the good man, “we thank Thee for this bright morning and for the flowers and clouds and birds which have helped to make it beautiful. We thank Thee that we, here beneath this roof, love each other with whole hearts. We thank Thee for the little child that sits here at our board, and for his health and smiles, and from the bottom of our hearts we pray Thee to give us wisdom to lead him in the paths of goodness. And we thank Thee for the little wanderer who sleeps a stranger in our house. If she be motherless, give us joy in mothering her; and if she be fatherless, we commit her to Thy all knowing care—beg for her Thy abounding love and mercy. May no fear come in her heart when first she looks upon us. May she see at once the tenderness we feel for her. And if it be Thy will that she shall unite her life with ours, may we have heart of grace to take her as a gift from Thee. Amen.” “Amen,” breathed Mrs. Barbara, wiping her eyes. “Amen,” laughed baby Jonathan. And then they all fell to and ate with the best of appetites. Then, while they lingered over their meal, and the Rev. Absalom talked about the ride he ought to take to Sessions to see old Mrs. Underwood, who had cancer, and while Mrs. Barbara decided that perhaps she’d better not start her blue chally that day when she was likely to have so much on her mind, and while baby Jonathan was wondering when, _when_ he would be let down on the floor to crawl after that nice hairy caterpillar, there came a great knocking at the door. “Old Bill Jones!” cried the preacher. “What a fist the man has! Who can it be, Barbara?” It was no easy matter for the master of the house to uncoil his long legs and get them out from under the table. So it was little Mrs. Barbara who opened the door to admit a man quite as tall as her own Absalom—a man with no hat and a great shock of hair, and a fiddle under his arm. He nodded to Mrs. Summers, but looked over her head at the man and shouted: “Neighbor, I’m getting up a posse to hunt a little girl that’s been lost. It’s mighty important that we get under way inside of an hour at the farthest. Will you join us?” “Now you just make up your mind I will, man. But first I want to know why she’s lost, and who wants her, and what’s to be done with her after she’s found. I’ve known of cases where it was better to be lost than found. What say?” “I say what you say is true, sir! It would be a heap better for that there little girl to die on the mountains alone than to be picked up by the folks she’s run away from. But I don’t want them to get her, and I don’t want her to die on the mountain side, for there’s happiness a-coming to her if only I can put my hands on her and take her back to them that’s waiting for her.” Mr. Summers was at last untangled from the table and he came forward holding out that great hearty hand which had put faith and hope into many weary hearts.