I hope you'll never come again, unless you come with us," he
said, pointing to some girls dressed as bookmakers, with Salvation and
Perdition written on the satchels hung round their shoulders. They sought
to persuade the passers-by to come into the tent. "We shall be very glad
to see you," they said, and they distributed mock racing cards on which
was inscribed news regarding certain imaginary racing. "The Paradise
Plate, for all comers," "The Salvation Stakes, an Eternity of Happiness
added."
Fred repeated his request. "I hope the next time you come here it will be
with us; you'll strive to collect some of Christ's lost sheep."
"And my husband making a book yonder?"
An awkward silence intervened, and then he said--
"Won't you come in; service is going on?"
Esther followed him. In the tent there were some benches, and on a
platform a grey-bearded man with an anxious face spoke of sinners and
redemption. Suddenly a harmonium began to play a hymn, and, standing side
by side, Esther and Fred sang together. Prayer was so inherent in her that
she felt no sense of incongruity, and had she been questioned she would
have answered that it did not matter where we are, or what we are doing,
we can always have God in our hearts.
Fred followed her out.
"You have not forgotten your religion, I hope?"
"No, I never could forget that.
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