She remembered the name of it, Bible, the Book of God.

Then God had written a book! Some day she would try to find it and read it.
"Let not your heart be troubled"; so much of the message drifted into her lonesome, ignorant soul, and settled down to stay.

She said it over nights when she found a shelter in some unpleasant place or days when the road was rough or a storm came up and she was compelled to seek shelter by the roadside under a haystack or in a friendly but deserted shack.

She thought of it the day there was no shelter and she was drenched to the skin.

She wondered afterward when the sun came out and dried her nicely whether God had really been speaking the words to her troubled heart, "Let not your heart be troubled." Every night and every morning she said "Our Father" twice, once for herself and once for the friend who had gone out into the world, it seemed about a hundred years ago.
But one day she came across a railroad track.