editor of the _Gazette_ as I had made of the depot-agent, and I shall
never forget the editor's surprised smile as he replied: "Really, Mrs.
Roberts, I'm the last one of whom to inquire, as I make no profession
whatsoever of religion. There is a lady living on the edge of town,
formerly of the Salvation Army; she might do."

It was a long walk, or rather seemed so. We soon discovered that this
lady was in no position to entertain us over night, and as it was long
past noon, she must have taken it for granted that we had dined. Before
leaving I requested a season of prayer. Her aged mother preceded her, I
followed, then Lucy, who drew tears from our eyes by her fervent
petition for guidance. After we had made our adieus and had walked a
few yards, the daughter called and ran after us, to inform us that she
had just thought of the landlady of the Tremont Hotel (Mrs. Ayers).
"Her dining-room is closed for the season. She is a very kind-hearted
woman. I have no doubt of her inviting you to remain under her roof
when she learns your errand," said this newly-found friend. I thanked
her most sincerely, and we proceeded once more to town.

I again called upon the _Gazette_ editor, for I had it in mind to hold
a street-meeting that evening and make public announcement of our
errand. He promised the presence of himself and of others in the event
of my doing so.

"Mother dear," inquired poor, tired, hungry, over-heated Lucy, "I
wonder if God really wants us to hunt a home for the girls, after all?
I can't stand much more."

"Neither can I, dear child," I replied, "but we'll ask him. Give me
your hand." (We were walking toward the hotel.)