Several weeks passed away. Ray patiently did the work before him, but the conviction grew stronger and stronger in his heart that his mill life was drawing to a close; that before a great while the Lord would throw open a door through which he might go on toward his most cherished hopes. And, as is often the case in God's dealings with us, it was opened so unexpectedly, and so naturally and simply, that only those who recognize God's hand in everything would have seen his hand in it at all. There came a warm bright Sunday in April. The snow had left the hills; the grass was starting up fresh and green; the trees were showing their tiny buds; here and there in some sheltered nook an early flower had ventured to open its bright face, as a harbinger of others to come. Ray had been to church and Sunday-school as usual, and now, dinner having been eaten, he stood on the door-steps looking off toward the hills. "I am in the mood to-day for a tramp," he said, "and it is a long time since I went up to the top of Pine Hill. I guess I'll take a walk up there, and come down the other way in time for the evening service." So calling out to Betsy that he would meet her at the church at the hour for service, he started off on his long tramp. The path wound around the edge of the hill, and soon ran along a precipice just above the highway. He sat down here and looked off toward the mills, his thoughts busy with the changes of the past year. He was soon lost in his reverie, and took no note of what was passing around him until aroused by the sound of an approaching wagon. He looked down, and saw a pair of horses and a light wagon in which were two men passing directly beneath him. One of the men was Jacob Woodhull and the other was his nephew, George Woodhull, who owned a large farm down on the east shore of the bay. Ray remembered now that Jacob Woodhull had not been at church or Sunday-school that morning, and thought: "He has been down to his nephew's to-day, and is just coming home." The men were busy talking, and did not notice the boy a hundred feet or so above. "I tell you, George," Mr. Jacob Woodhull was saying to his companion, "this boy will just suit you; I will guarantee that he is thoroughly reliable, and I think he will be glad to leave the mill. Anyway, we can----" And the rest of the sentence was lost by the horses breaking into a fast trot, and soon disappearing around a sharp turn in the road. Ray rose and went on, his mind busy with what he had overheard. "My!" he ejaculated, "I wonder if they meant me. Wouldn't I just like to work for George Woodhull. I can assure them I am ready to leave the mill any time to go there."