Free Substitute Guest by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

them, and they went right off. It was rather awful, seeing them go into the storm, and the darkness beginning to come down!”
    “It is awful!” said Ruth, shuddering. “If you haven’t been out in it you can’t possibly know! I don’t see how they can live long in it. Don’t you think we ought to go after them? I wouldn’t mind driving. I can’t bear to think of him out there freezing to death perhaps!”
    “No!” said Daryl, taking a deep breath. “They won’t
freeze
to death. They are so bundled up they couldn’t for a long time. No, and you would only get stuck in a drift yourself and have to be dug out, or walk back. By this time they’ve likely reached the foot of the mountain trail, and you couldn’t climb the trail in a car. Besides, Lance would be furious. No, we’ve just got to wait and bear this till—till—they come back. Mother’s in there praying. I guess maybe that’s the best thing we can do.”
    “Yes,” said Ruth. “We will! I’ve been doing it in my heart ever since your first word. But oh, I’d like to be doing something more! It’s provoking to be only a girl at a time like this. You know perfectly well if we were out there struggling along in that storm Lance would come after us!”
    “Yes,” said Daryl, “but you know he wouldn’t want you to come after him. Besides, it’s impossible!” Daryl shut her lips and drew a deep breath of resignation.
    “But it seems as if somebody ought to do something.”
    “Where is that friend of yours you said you were expecting? Hasn’t he come yet? Perhaps he would go after them and make sure they are all right. It seems as if there would be more safety in numbers.”
    A sudden shade passed over Daryl’s face. She caught a quick breath and said in a sad, decisive voice, “Harold isn’t coming.”
    “Oh! Couldn’t he get here? Well, that shows you how dangerous the going is. And up that mountain, too. It seems so awful! Don’t you think we ought to telephone the police in town, or somebody? If Bill Gates knew about it he would go after them with the snowplow, I’m sure.”
    Daryl shook her head.
    “Lance wouldn’t want us to do that,” she said decidedly. “And Bill Gates couldn’t run the snowplow up the mountain! No, Ruth, if anything ought to be done Father’ll do it.”
    “Oh, yes, you have a father,” said Ruth, drawing a breath of relief. “What did he think about it? Why did he let Lance go?”
    “He told Lance he must go, of course, and he prayed for them when they started out. Prayed for both of them. He’s probably praying now.”
    They sat quite still for a moment or two thinking, while the room seemed to grow darker in the corners, and the firelight flickered and glowed. A stick collapsed with a soft plush sound and scattered lovely rose coals in the ashes, and then flared up golden and flame colored again and went on burning the stick above.
    “What was he like, the stranger?” asked Ruth suddenly. “Was he a Christian, do you suppose?”
    “I don’t know,” said Daryl thoughtfully. “I didn’t look at him much. He bowed his head when Father prayed. They were at the table to drink coffee before they left, and Father came and asked a blessing on them—” She paused gravely. “He had nice eyes. That was all I noticed about him. I was rather upset, you know.”
    “Of course,” said Ruth sorrowfully.
    Then suddenly Father Devereaux came in with Ruth’s suitcase.
    “Well, you got here safely, little girl, didn’t you? Thank God for that!” he said cheerfully, setting down the suitcase and coming up to shake hands. And Mother Devereaux appeared from the shadows of the other room just then and took Ruth in her arms and kissed her.
    “It is good to have you here safely,” she said gently. Ruth noticed that there was a calmness about her, and a peace upon her brow, and suddenly she took heart of hope. Of course, Lance was safe in the hands of the Lord! Why should she doubt?
    “It’s time we had