The same experience has been undergone by many a soul that has lain in darkness and the shadow of death. It happened to Musgrave Reade, the atheist, at "the height of his rebellion against God"; to Max Muller, Professor of Comparative Philology at Oxford, as after many years of prejudice and neglect of the New Testament, he opened it again. It happened to St. Paul as he rode on his way to Damascus, breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord. So as Meg lay looking up into the starry sky with despairing eyes, a "still small voice" spoke to her, and in the darkness, she listened. From that moment life was changed, for she had found a Friend and a Saviour. CHAPTER XXI THE ROSE THROWN FROM THE TRAIN No one came to meet Meg when, having recovered from her illness, she left the Union. She knew that Mrs. Webb could not do so on account of her work, so was not disappointed. But she was surprised to find how pleased she felt as she drew near the unsavoury street in which Mrs. Webb's rooms were located. She looked up at the window of the room in which she had slept on first arriving in London. How she had hated the room that day! Now the one above it stood for home, and she thought of it with tenderness. Meg was still feeling weak, and walked slowly up the stairs, pausing at Mrs. Webb's door. She knew that her kind friend would not be at home, but Willie would in all probability be there. She opened the door gently. Willie was playing with a broken toy on the floor and recognising his visitor he jumped up and threw his arms round her. Meg clasped him close. She felt she had come to her own folk. "Oh Willie, I am glad to see you," she said. Her voice trembled with emotion, as she recognized that this was the first home coming that she had ever had in her life. Willie tugged her towards a chair and then seated himself on her knee. "I've two secrets to tell you," he said in a loud whisper. "Would you like to hear them?" "Ever so much," said Meg with shining eyes. He threw his arms round her neck, nearly throttling her in his anxiety to whisper right into her ear. "We're going to have sausages to our dinner," he said, "and mother, she say you're to have it along with us. She's got them for you." "Oh, how nice!" said Meg, but she was thinking of the sensation of having the child's arms around her, not of the sausages. "Ain't you fond of sausages? I am, and mother she got 'em on purpose for you. You ain't had 'em I guess where you've been." "I'm ever so fond of sausages," said Meg. "It's part of my birthday treat come before the day," continued Willie. "When is your birthday, Willie?" "It's to-morrow that ever is, and I've got another just lovely secret for you. You like my secrets don't you?" "I love them." "Well then, bend your ear down as no one must hear this one as it's just lovely. Where do you think we're going to-morrow, me and you and mother?" "I don't know, I can't guess."