through her more violently than ever. The hymn came to an end, and with a final smooth to his hair Brother Seabrook spread his handkerchief on the floor, and dropped one knee upon it in prayer. “Seems like he needn’t to be so scary about trustin’ both knees to our floor,” Mrs. Anderson whispered resentfully to Julie, as they bent forward. Brother Seabrook’s petition was an impassioned plea that his flock might be instructed in prayer--all of them, even the least in their midst--and here Mrs. Anderson dug her elbow into Julie’s ribs. Another hymn followed, and as the congregation sang through “Take it to the Lord in prayer,” Julie tried to fortify herself with the thought that surely none of the women members would be called on at this very first prayer-meeting. But when the hymn died away, Brother Seabrook shattered this forlorn hope by booming out, “Sister Humphries, will you offer a prayer?” Obediently, old Miss Mary Humphries, up at the front, bowed her broad back to the burden. It was more than Julie could face. He was calling on the women, and he had fixed his eyes upon her. It was terrifying to leave. It was impossible to stay. She went. Mrs. Anderson’s face was buried in her hands. She never knew when Julie slipped from her side. None of the worshipers saw her go. She was so far back that a stride or two brought her to the door. It was half open, and she passed through it to freedom and safety, without a sound. III As Julie came forth from the Sunday-School room, breathless and trembling, she paused a moment upon the steps, and there the deep serenity of the night received her. She drew a long breath. Her heart still pounded violently, but she had escaped: she was delivered. Inside, Sister Humphries continued to pray, Brother Seabrook speeding the petition upon its way with ejaculations of “Lord, grant it!” “Amen! Amen!” Outside, the sweep of a starlighted sky covered the world. Julie lingered upon the steps, her tense nerves relaxing gradually, as the safety and reassurance outside wrapped her about. From some near garden the fragrance of roses was borne to her by an idle breeze--a little breeze which, having rendered this service, blew away thereafter into the hills. The mountains were there, the stars, the night. On a sudden impulse she dropped down upon the top step. It half frightened her to do so, because it would “look so funny” if anybody should see her. But the church was a little distance back from the street, and there appeared to be no passers-by. She clasped her hands lightly around her knees, and leaned against a pillar. She had a feeling of daring and adventure, and yet of utter security. She was tired after her agitation, and the peace of the night received her, like the safety of a deep harbor after a tumultuous sea.