She was silent on the way home. Grandpa and grandma held her two hands clasped in theirs and over her head talked quietly. She was too dejected to pay much attention to what they were saying; caught only scattered, meaningless phrases: “Of course that kind of frenzy is sincere but--” “Simple young things--” “No more idea of sin or real repentance--” But Missy was engrossed with her own dismal thoughts. The blood of the Lamb had passed her by. And that night, for the first time in three nights, the grace of God didn't flow in on the flood of moonlight through her window. She tossed on her unhallowed pillow in troubled dreams. Once she cried out in sleep, and grandma came hurrying in with a candle. Grandma sat down beside her--what was this she was saying about “green-apple pie”? Missy wished to ask her about it--green-apple pie--green-apple pie--Before she knew it she was off to sleep again. It was the next morning while she was still lying in bed, that Missy made the Great Resolve. That hour is one when big Ideas--all kinds of unusual thoughts--are very apt to come. When you're not yet entirely awake; not taken up with trivial, everyday things. Your mind, then, has full swing. Lying there in grandma's soft feather bed, Missy wasn't yet distracted by daytime affairs. She dreamily regarded the patch of blue sky showing through the window, and bits of fleecy cloud, and flying specks of far-away birds. How wonderful to be a bird and live up in the beautiful sky! When she died and became an angel, she could live up there! But was she sure she'd become an angel? That reflection gradually brought her thoughts to the events of the preceding night. Though she could recall those events distinctly, Missy now saw them in a different kind of way. Now she was able to look at the evening as a whole, with herself merely a part of the whole. She regarded that sort of detached object which was herself. That detached Missy had gone to the meeting, and failed to find grace. Others had gone and found grace. Even though they had acted no differently from Missy. Like her they sang tunes; listened to the preacher; bowed the head; went forward and knelt at the feet of Jesus; repented; went back to the pews; stood up and testified-- Oh! Suddenly Missy gave a little sound, and stirred. She puckered her brows in intense concentration. Perhaps--perhaps that was why! And then she made the Great Resolve. Soon after breakfast, Pete appeared with a bag of candy. “I don't deserve it,” said Missy humbly. “You bet you don't!” acquiesced Pete. So even he recognized her state of sin! Her Great Resolve intensified.