always right. Will you please step out to tea, Miss, and then I will
go and look after her; or, if you like, you can follow that little
path that leads from the garden gate to the hill where she has gone
for her flowers."

Miss Vernon was glad to go; and after a light supper, was on her
way, almost fearful that the child might consider her an intruder,
for she instinctively felt that she must work her way into the
affections of her new charge.

She followed the path to the hill, and after walking for some time
and not finding Dawn, was about to retrace her steps, when she heard
a low, sweet voice, chanting an evening hymn. She sat upon a bed of
grey moss until the chanting ceased, and then went in the direction
from which the sound came.

There sat Dawn, with eyes uplifted, lips parted as though in
conversation, and features glowing with intensest emotion. Then the
eyes dropped, and her little hands were pressed to her heart, as
though the effort had been too great.

Slowly Miss Vernon stepped towards her. Dawn caught her eye, and
motioned her to come nearer.

"Are you not lonely here, child?" she asked.

"Lonely? O, no. I am not alone, Miss Vernon, God is here, and I am
so full I sing, or I should die. Did you hear me?"

"I did. Who taught you that beautiful chant?"