In answer to her call, an old white-haired man came briskly in from the garden, and his neat dress, his pleasant features, and his quiet, gentlemanly appearance indicate a great change in Mr. Branford, the elder. That prison life, under God's blessing, reformed the man. His heart was touched as he entered those prison gates. Ray and George and the girls had all, at times, visited him. They wrote to him frequently, and even tried to point him to the "Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world." Nor were those visits and letters without their influence upon him. But it was that Bible that Ray gave him, and the Spirit's influence on the truth, as the penitent man pored over its pages, that finally gave him peace. God's time came, and the answer to the prayers that had so earnestly been lifted up for him was granted. He found Jesus precious unto his soul. He is very doubtful of himself. He has made no great professions; but all who knew him in his old life can see the change. Through good behavior his term of service was materially shortened, and for some months now he has made his home with George, going faithfully to every religious service, working at whatsoever he can find to do, asking no favors of any one, yet thankful if he can be of use anywhere. The family now sit down at the table, and the four children, young as they are, all bow their heads as George asks the blessing, and throughout the meal one would be impressed by the perfect order that reigned. There is evidently good training in that home. "Oh, George, have you heard anything from Ray yet?" Betsy suddenly asked. "Yes, and I must have left the letter at the office," he replied, feeling in every pocket for the missing letter. "I can tell you its contents, however. His school is over, and he is in Afton now. The letter came from there. He will be down on the five o'clock train to-night, and Edward and Daisy Lawton will come with him. All will remain over the picnic to-morrow. Ray agrees to make the speech, as he calls it, to the Sunday-school, and all three will help us with the singing; so we are all provided for in that direction. It now promises to be a fine day; I shall stop the mill, and I see no reason why we may not have a grand time." "Are we going to White Rock Lake, papa?" asked Bessie, a child of five or six years. "Yes, dear," responded her father. "Wid horses?" cried Master two-year-old Bob. "Yes, with horses and wagons," replied George, tossing the boy high in the air, and catching him as he came down; "and when we get there, we shall have boating and swinging and a feast, and Uncle Ray will make a speech to the children, and the children will sing, and we shall have a big time generally, for young folks as well as old ones. Do you want to go, sir?" "Me drive the horses," cried Bob, struggling to get down on the floor; and, succeeding, he pranced around in imitation of the steeds he had such a passion for.