"Drive on."

He was obeyed, and led the way over a bridge across another noisy
stream, and along a road where there was the sound of a waterfall very
near, then up a steep, rocky way until he stopped, saying,

"I guess you can get along now."

To Father Olever's thanks he only replied by a low, contemptuous but
good-humored laugh, as he turned to retrace his steps. All comfort and
strength and hope seemed to go with him. We were abandoned to our fate,
babes in the woods again, with only God for our reliance. But after a
while we could see the horizon, and arrived at our destination several
minutes before midnight, to find the great mansion full of glancing
lights and busy, expectant life.

The large family had waited up for Father Olever's return, for he and
his wagon were the connecting link between that establishment and the
outside world. He appeared to great advantage surrounded by a bevy of
girls clamoring for letters and messages. To me the scene was
fairy-land. I had never before seen anything so grand as the great hall
with its polished stairway. We had supper in the housekeeper's room, and
I was taken up this stairway, and then up and up a corkscrew cousin
until we reached the attic, which stretched over the whole house, one
great dormitory called the "bee-hive." Here I was to sleep with Helen
Semple, a Pittsburg girl, of about my own age, a frail blonde, who quite
won my heart at our first meeting.

Next day was Sabbath, and I was greatly surprised to see pupils walk on
the lawn. This was such a desecration of the day, but I made no remark.