was being said. We were all too silly, thinking about other things. I guess you understand, Miss, what girls of our age generally think about.”
“Did the missionary and his wife know anything about your thoughts?” Marion asked.
“Oh, no. They never dreamed of such things. They lived too near heaven for that. Perhaps that was where they made a mistake in thinking that the girls were like themselves. Anyway, they were right, and we were wrong. I see it now, when it is too late.”
Zell’s eyes were misty as she stood there, resting her left hand upon the table for support. Marion, too, was affected, as in her mind she saw a faithful woman, who had given up all the luxuries of life for a great cause, seated there or kneeling in prayer. What earnest petitions had been offered up before that rude table, and how many letters had been written to loved ones far away. The thought of that noble woman was an inspiration to her, and helped her to be brave. Stepping forward, she glanced at the books upon the shelves. She examined several, and was surprised to find them all stained as if with water.
“What happened to these?” she asked. “They look as if they had been soaked.”
“Oh, the big flood did that,” Zell explained. “It was one spring several years ago, when the Kluksan was jammed up in the mountains with ice. It broke and swept down upon The Gap in a rushing torrent. The Gikhi was sitting at his table writing, when an Indian rushed in and gave the warning. We had only time to get out of the house and flee to the high bank when the water was in this house, and almost everything was ruined. The Indians’ cabins were all swept away, while only the mission house and church were left
