"I never told you about my baby." she faltered." He was a dreadful
nice little-"

"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Weeks pleasantly.

baby. I've got some of his things in a little box in the wagon. He
died after his father did. I wouldn't feel acquainted with the
saints that the folks sang gather at the River; but I'd feel
acquainted with my baby. He's there, isn't he?"

"Yes," said Addie softly, "your baby's by the River, and you can go
there, too."

The woman tried to control her sobs and listen, while Addie told in
as simple language as she could the way to peace.

"It's just coming to Christ, just as we are, and asking him to make
us his," finished the girl. "He's promised to forgive, if we're in
earnest about asking."

Addie waited a moment.

"Maybe you'd be willing to come to the camp-fire with me," suggested
Addie. "Those people are only, some of our neighbors. They like
these open-air meetings. Perhaps they'd make the way clearer to
you."

"No," said the woman hastily. "No, I'm not fit for such folks, but
would you mind doing one thing for me? Will you go back and just sit
down, careless like, on one of the logs there by the fire, as if