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Fifteen Years with the Outcast by Mrs. (Mother) Roberts Florence
page 170 of 354 (48%)

After much effort and following repeated calls with "not at home"
responses, I at last was able to meet one Miss Blank. Seated in her
private reception room, I listened respectfully to her recital of
vindication because of her present position, and then told her the
nature of my errand.

The door was partially open. A beautiful, very beautiful blonde girl
attired in pale blue stepped partly in, saying as she did so, "May I
come in. Miss Blank?" "No, not just now," was the answer. "I'm engaged
for the next few minutes." At her request I sang.

I sang a song entitled "My Mother's Voice." I was sitting where I had a
view of a portion of the stairway, and, as I sang, I saw a little blue
slipper and part of a dress. That girl sat there listening.

I soon left. Before doing so I asked if I might call again, and
received permission.

The following Sunday evening, after I had addressed a large audience in
the Presbyterian church and just as the meeting closed, two ladies
hastened forward and thus excitedly addressed the pastor (Reverend
S----) and me:

"Oh! we thought the meeting would never end. Do you know a girl shot
herself just now in Miss Blank's house? She may be living yet. Hurry!
You may be able to get there in time to save her soul before she dies."
I ran, without even my hat, the pastor quickly following. When we rang
the bell, Miss Blank came to the door and, throwing herself into my
arms, exclaimed:
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