XXXIII
A VISITOR FOR YOU
IT was holiday time at the Caiawa Indian school. Deborah and Lydia left for the city and a rest at Deborah’s parents’ home. “I don’t think you should go, Miss Deborah. I’m afraid you won’t come back,” Ginny said solemnly. “Of course I will, little dear.” Station supplies had to be bought and visits had to be made. Then one evening the two missionaries were standing in the living room of Deborah’s home. “Deborah,” Dona Lydia, the beloved senior missionary, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and looked lovingly into her eyes. “What is this now, Dona Lydia. Have I done something wrong. What is it?” “A gentleman was here a few minutes ago to advise me that a visitor is coming. A visitor for you.” Deborah returned her look evenly. “So? What is unusual about that? The only visitor who could make much difference to me is a long, long way from here. You should know that by now.”
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