When she had prepared herself for the night's rest, she snapped out the light, then stood for a brief time at the open window looking out into the night. She was on the second floor of her uncle's small building. Before her were the low, flat roofs of some one-story shacks. Looking far beyond these, she saw squares of light against the night sky. These she knew were lighted windows of distant skyscrapers. There were thousands of these windows. "What can they all do at night?" she asked herself. "Struggling to make money, to get on, to keep their families housed and fed," the answer came to her. Then, strangely enough, her mind carried her back over the trail that had brought her to this city. It had been an interesting adventure, that long bus ride. Six of the passengers, including herself, had ridden hundreds of miles together. They had become like a little community. "It was as if these were pioneer days," she told herself now. "As if we were journeying in covered wagons in a strange new land." One of these long distance passengers, as you will know, had been a young man. In his golf knickers and soft, gray cap, he had seemed a college boy. But he was not. "Out of college and at work," was the way he had expressed it. "What work do you do?" she had asked. He had hesitated before replying. Then his answer had been vague. "Oh, I just look after people." "Look after people?" "Lots of people. All sorts." A queer smile had played about the corners of his mouth. She had not pressed the question further. But now, standing there looking out into his city at night, she whispered, "His name was Drew Lane. Wonder if I'll ever see him again? I hope so. He seemed a nice boy, and I should love to know how he looks after 'lots of people--all sorts.'" She looked again at the many lighted windows. Suddenly those who toiled there seemed very near to her. She found a strange comfort in this. "I, too, must do my best," she told herself. "God help me to be wise and strong, helpful to others and kind to all!" she prayed as she gave herself over to sleep. She was wakened at dawn by a whisper. At first, so closely did dream life blend with the life of day, it seemed natural that she should be listening to this whisper. When she had come into full consciousness she sprang out of bed with a start. "Good morning!" The words came in slowly, a distinct whisper. "We hope you are happy this morning. Cheerio! That's the word!" "When you have dressed," the whisper continued, "won't you just step out into the little parlor and take a seat by the table? It will be good to have a look at your shining face." "Someone in my little parlor! I don't like it. And that whisper!" She dressed hurriedly, then stepped through the door. What sort of person had she expected to see? Probably she could not have told. What she did see was _an empty room_.