Before we left that place, and between dances, a man sitting in drunken
stupor on a bench suddenly tilted back his hat, stared at me, and
accosted me thus:

"Howdy-do, Mother Roberts."

"My! who is this that recognizes me in such a den?" I questioned
myself. "Who are you, my man, and where have we met?" I inquired.
Imagine my chagrin at his replying:

"In the jail at Sacramento."

"How awful! What will these people think--that I am an ex-jail bird?"
Such were the thoughts that were running through my mind.

"Yep; you gave me a speel there, and I don't forget it. Say, kids, this
'ere woman's all right. I wish I'd a minded wot she said, 'n I wouldn't
be 'ere ter night."

Hearing these last words, Sister Kauffman, who had been busy dealing
with many souls all of this time, said:

"If you mean that, come with Mother Roberts and me down to the mission,
a block away. The dear young men workers there will be only too glad to
help you."

Then we immediately wended our way out. I with my precious autoharp
under one arm and the infinitely more precious human treasure's arm
tucked safely under my other. We soon reached the humble mission, left
the man in safe keeping, and took a homeward-bound car, retiring about