"The old man sat in silence a few moments and said, 'Mary, I must go.'
She knew her father too well to suppose that words would detain him, and
so complied with his wishes. While she held the bag for him, she felt
perhaps a little uneasiness to see the flour so liberally disposed of,
and said, 'I wish you would remember that _I_ want to give a poor woman
some flour, if it ever clears off.' The old man understood the
intimation and said, 'Mary, give all you feel it duty to, and when the
Lord says stop, I will do so.'

"Soon all things were ready, and the patient oxen took their way to the
widow's home, wallowing through the drifted snow, and dragging the sled
with its load of wood and flour. About four o'clock in the afternoon,
the mother had arisen from her work to fix the fire, and, looking out of
the window, she saw the oxen at the door, and she knew that the Lord had
heard her cry.

"She said not a word--why should she? She was not surprised!--but,
presently, a heavy step at the threshold caused the daughters to look up
with astonishment, as Mr. M. strode unceremoniously into the room,
saying, '_The Lord told me, Sister C, that you wanted some wood and
flour_.'

"'_He told you the truth_,' said the widow, 'and I will praise Him
forever.'

"'_What think you now girls_?' she continued, as she turned in solemn
joy to her unbelieving daughters.

"_They were speechless_; not a word escaped their lips; but they
pondered that new revelation of the providential mercy of the Lord,