"Dear Betty, always with us in trouble," she murmured. Her brow contracted, and she tried to think. Then she looked around with a bright smile. "Ah! I remember now--the shock of Harold's accident upset me awfully, did it not? No wonder! But the dear boy is safe now." She closed her eyes in weakness. "Try to sleep dear," Walter said. In silence they watched her sink into a quiet, restful slumber. George carefully listened to her heart--then he walked towards the door and beckoned the others to follow. When they were outside the room, he said to them: "She remembers nothing of the cause of her prostration. I have had cases where they do not recall it for weeks. We must not allude to it in any manner. There certainly is great hope now. Her heart is stronger--and no stimulants! Assuredly your prayers have been answered!" "To God be the glory!" exclaimed one of the elders fervently. George looked at his shining countenance with a puzzled admiration. "And do you really believe, that had you two not administered to Mrs. Cadman, her condition would have remained unchanged?" "That is not for me to say," he answered gravely. "Well, to put it differently, how can your prayers change the course of nature?" "It is not given to us to know God's methods," returned the elder promptly. "He is the creator of all--does he not, therefore, control his own? It is simply our part to obey. Christ's commands are simple, unquestionable. His is the power and the glory that we but reflect!" From this man's speaking with the tone of authority, George turned to Betty. Her expressive countenance glowed with enthusiasm. "Your arguments are good,--and your faith is enviable," said George, impressed. The next few days Alma steadily improved. But Betty did not leave her until she was almost herself. By that time, Harold was wheeled into her room daily. There they talked and read of the Hudson-Fulton celebration, and the hours passed quickly for the active boy. It was Sunday when Betty at last returned home. Everyone of the little group greeted her warmly. In her room, she found a beautiful bunch of American Beauties--the card attached was Edgeway's. A knock at the door seemed to answer her thought,--for, with a pleasant "Come in," Edgeway entered. "Is this evening mine?" he asked smiling. "O yes! Will you take me out for a nice long walk? I would appreciate the fresh evening air immensely." "And my company, too," he said laughing. "Of course," she returned brightly. After tea, at which time her friends were unusually lively and talkative, she left the house with Edgeway. She did not feel in harmony with the eager crowds and gay brilliancy of the illuminated city, but she felt anxious to please him, so she put all thoughts of George and Alma temporarily from her. Edgeway was in one of his gayest moods. "This is great!" he exclaimed as they started. "To really, really feel the realism of your presence!"