with cold an' 'unger, I set down on the floor an' I dragged the Bible to
me an' I ses: 'There ain't nothin' on earth or in 'ell as 'll 'elp me.
I'm goin' to do wot the lidy said--mad or not.' An' I 'eld the book--
an' I 'eld my breath, too, 'cos it was like waitin' for the end o' the
world--an' after a bit I 'ears myself call out in a 'oller whisper,
'Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth. Show me a 'ope.' An' I was tremblin'
all over when I opened the book. An' there it was! 'I will go before
thee an' make the rough places smooth, I will break in pieces the doors
of brass and will cut in sunder the bars of iron.' An' I knowed it was
a answer."

"You--knew--it--was an answer?"

"Wot else was it?" with a shining face. "I'd arst for it, an' there it
was. An' in about a hour Glad come runnin' up 'ere, an' she'd 'ad a bit
o' luck--"

"'T wasn't nothin' much," Glad broke in deprecatingly, "on'y I'd got
somethin' to eat an' a bit o' fire."

"An' she made me go an' 'ave a 'earty meal, an' set an' warm meself. An'
she was that cheerfle an' full o' pluck, she 'elped me to forget about
the things that was makin' me into a madwoman. SHE was the answer--
same as the book 'ad promised. They comes in different wyes the answers
does. Bless yer, they don't come in claps of thunder an' streaks o'
lightenin'--they just comes easy an' natural--so's sometimes yer
don't think for a minit or two that they're answers at all. But it
comes to yer in a bit an' yer 'eart stands still for joy. An' ever since
then I just go to me book an' arst. P'raps," her smile an illuminating
thing, "me bein' the low an' pore in spirit at the beginnin', an'