her from the Philippines might have gone. The mystic Ship upon The Rock
was all that was needed to fix her fancy.

"But--I was in time. I _am_ in time. The Ship--is waiting. Everything is
all right now!--quite all right, Sister?"

Angela went close to the bed.

"My dear one!" she whispered and slipped her arm under Meredith's head.

"It all seems so--plain in the morning, Sister. It is the night that
makes us afraid. The night! I cannot remember--what it was--I dreamed."

"Never mind, little girl"--Angela's tears were dropping on the soft,
smooth hair that was growing clammy; she felt the cold breath on her
face--"never mind, little girl, the dream is past."

"Sister, it was a bad dream. I do not like bad dreams--tell Doris--what
is it that I want you to tell Doris?"

"Try to sleep, beloved." Angela knelt.

Meredith slipped back to her childhood--she gave a short, hurting laugh.
"Tell her--tell Doris--I did try to learn my lesson--but----"

It was the opening of the door that startled Angela into consciousness.
Doris Fletcher stood within the room. Her eyes took in the scene, the
pretty face against Sister Angela's bosom; the sunlight lying full
across the bed and picking out into a gleam the golden cross that hung
to the floor.