but one piece of furniture, a cheap washstand bureau. Some of the young
men were putting new panes of glass into the windows, others were
papering the walls with odds and ends, which had been donated. Sister
Jennie Cloninger was busy scraping an old bathtub with a piece of
glass, preparatory to painting it, and Sister Eva Shearer had her dress
tucked up whilst mopping one of the floors. Every one was busy and
happy in the Lord's service.

"Sister Shearer dear, what can I do to help this blessed work?" I
inquired.

"Sister Roberts, that washstand is all the furniture we have. Please go
in the name of Jesus and ask for donations," she replied.

Prayerfully I started on my errand, and soon had many promises from
hotel proprietors and others.

Shortly after this my son, having an ambition to see more of the world,
grew restless. All effort on my part failed to keep him near me. I
simply commended him to the One who has promised that if we are
faithful "our righteousness shall be for our children," and comforted
myself with this promise as I sorrowfully bade him farewell and
returned to my lonely lodgings. Did I say lonely? I made a mistake. To
be sure, I greatly missed my boy, but he was in our Father's keeping,
and I was dwelling in "the secret of his presence" who doeth all things
well.

Soon afterward I returned to my home in Redding, taking the journey as
a singing evangelist with Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Thurston, an elderly
couple then in undenominational gospel-wagon work. It was on this trip