"A little. I was thinking of my grandfather, and how I'd love to see him. I am always homesick when his letters come. One came to-day." "I am homesick, too," said Carla, "for my native land, its green turf, its stately trees, the hedges, the cottages, the gardens, the flowers and birds--and--everything!" "Sit down, Carla. Let's talk. You are homesick for your native land, and I am homesick for my grandfather." She took one of the English girl's hands in hers, and they talked long of England. At last Carla asked Esther to sing for her. For answer, Esther rose, entered the schoolroom, and returned, bringing her guitar. Then striking the chords of C Major, she sang softly, "Home, Sweet Home." As she sang, Carla watched her through tears. "An exile from home," the teacher sang; but at that moment she heard a sob. She stopped singing. "Go on, please," begged the English girl. Again the cords vibrated to the touch of Esther's fingers, and she sang the song that has comforted many a sorrowing heart. "There were ninety and nine that safely lay In the shelter of the fold; But one was out on the hills away, Far off from the gates of gold." On she sang, her voice growing more pitifully tender. "But none of the ransomed ever knew How deep were the waters crossed; Nor how dark the night that the Lord passed through, Ere He found His sheep that was lost. Out in the darkness He heard its cry,-- Sick and helpless and ready to die." Then as she sang, "And the angels echoed around the throne, 'Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!'" her voice thrilled with triumphant hope. Was she inspired, or was it simply that she was about her Master's business? Her voice seemed a message from God to the stricken girl who listened. Carla, looking into the face of Esther Bright, saw there a smile that was ineffably sweet; saw, too, the golden light of the setting sun playing about her face and form. Song after song was sung from one heart to the other. The guitar was laid aside. Then hand in hand, the two girls sat talking till the sunset faded, talking through falling tears, talking of ideals of life, and of how sweet and good life may be. Then Esther told of the Blessed One of Galilee whose love and compassion never fail. And at last Carla told her her whole sad story. "But you will leave the saloon, Carla, won't you? You will throw off Mr. Clifton's influence?" Esther said as they rose to go. "I can give you shelter until I can find a home for you, only leave that dreadful place." "I can't; I love him," she answered. Then, covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly. "You _can_ leave him, I know, and you will in time. Come often to see me, as you have done to-day. Perhaps you and I together, with God's help, can find a way."