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June had been unusually warm and dry, and careless early campers had already started their annual conflagrations. Now high over the crest of the mountain the flames came sweeping down; came with the wind from the valley on the other side where they had raged till fuel was exhausted. Rain dropped her gray mantle behind a tree, and reappeared with her chalice of diamond-dust dew, to touch the fairy chorus to shimmering beauty. The gnomes, their queer masks and hunched shoulders showing grotesquely under their gray garb, joined the fairies’ dance. Wind came floating in as Summer Breeze. Storm was transformed to the Slave of the Sower; while Black Frost was perched high up at the rear, grinning from the top of the mountain. Was not May Nell safe? Almost recovered from her fright and hours of imprisonment? Was not the town ringing with her courage and quaint sayings? For she had told her story more than once; and when she came to the place where she said, “And I thought, ‘God can see me all the time; if He means for me to suffer awfully I must have an awful lot of courage; I must ask Him for it.’ So I did, and I said ‘Now I lay me,’ and lay down on the bed so I could hear God speak—you know you can hear better lying down—and I waited—”.

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“Hello, Billy To-morrow! Why didn’t you do that mowing last night? You said you were going to.” He dismounted, tied the pony to the post, and went inside; and one saw that in spite of jeers the boys were friends. “No; will you tell me?” “Ay, ay, sir,” came this time from two boys who had charge of some logs lashed together and crossed and recrossed by a hash-like lot of refuse lumber, and moored with a dog chain. Inside the church matters were beginning to resume a normal condition. But Mr. Wells still badly shaken and feeling unable to proceed announced, “My friends we will conclude our service with a hymn. Will some one suggest a suitable one.”.