"I am sorry," said Ray, thoughtfully; "for I had hoped their term in prison might be helpful to them. I am afraid now they will make bad, wicked men. How thankful you ought to be, George, that you didn't go along with them that night!" "Yes," admitted George; "it was the thought of Betsy that led me to refuse. I tell you, Ray, she is a Christian wife, if there ever was one. I have tormented her awfully, and she has borne it just as patiently as any one could. Never a bitter word out from her. But I'm through with that, and drinking, too." And he whistled softly. "Why not, George, come clear over to the Lord's side? Do you know, Betsy and I have prayed that you might?" "Yes," replied George; "I have known it a good while, and, Ray, I do want to come. I wish I had been as brave as Sailor Jack to-night. Won't you pray for me?" With a glad heart Ray knelt there and prayed for that brother. Nor did he forget the father and sisters, and the two wayward ones off on the great sea at that hour, fugitives from man's justice, but unable to escape the justice of God. When they arose, George shook hands with him convulsively, and then hastened to his own room. "Slowly they are coming, Lord, to thee," Ray murmured, as he got into bed. "Give me the faith to pray and labor for all until they too call thee Lord." The next morning, Ray had a little talk with Betsy before he hastened off to school. He found George had told her of his desire, and the two had a little prayer meeting in that kitchen for him, and the other members of the household still unsaved. Was it strange they arose with the conviction that their prayers would be answered? Not in the light of those words of the Master: "Again I say unto you, That if _two_ of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven." The answer came speedily, too, for a portion of the household, since before the week was out George and the two sisters came boldly out on the Lord's side; then the brothers and sisters joined their prayers for the salvation of the father, and the two wanderers in a foreign land. The prayers were heard. The cry of faith always is. But God's time had not yet come. CHAPTER XI. RAY IN HIS SCHOOL LIFE. Away up at the extreme end of the Parade, and commanding an extensive view of the town and bay, stood the Afton Graded School building. Four stories high, solid, square, substantial was the structure, and through its spacious doors passed daily five or six hundred pupils. Eight departments occupied its pleasant rooms, ranging from primary up to senior, the latter department being a grade higher than the grammar, and yet hardly advanced enough to be called academic. The scholars ranged from the five-year-old beginners to youths of sixteen or seventeen, and were of both sexes.