as the Lord had, which Mammy Grace repeatedly told her were
in every place, considering every little thing in the earth,
she would know just where to go to find the missing ball.
At that thought something seemed to whisper, "Pray."

She darted out of the door, ran across the yard, making her way
as speedily as possible to the only retired spot she knew of.
This was a deep gully at the back of the house, through which a tiny
stream of water crept, just moistening the roots of the wild
cherry and alder bushes which grew there in great abundance,
and keeping the grass fresh and green all the summer long.
No one ever came to this spot excepting now and then the laundress
with a piece of linen to bleach, or the children to play hide-and-seek
of a moonlight evening. Here she fell upon her knees, and lifting
up her hands as she had seen others do, she said,--

"Blessed Lord, I want to find missus' ball of yarn, and I can't.
You know whar 'tis. Show me, so I sha'n't get cracks over my head
with the big key. Hallelujah, amen."

She didn't know, innocent child, what this "Hallelujah, amen,"
meant; but she remembered that Uncle Simon always ended in that way,
and she supposed it had something important to do with the prayer.
So she uttered it with a feeling of great satisfaction,
as though that capped the climax of her duty, and put the seal
of acceptance on her petition; and then she got up and walked away,
as sure as could be that the ball would be forthcoming.
I dare say she expected to see it rolling out before her from some
unthought-of corner as she went along.