ed, should he not send her away? The need of the parish, of the
many, before the one. Moreover, Father Peter was under no obligation
whatsoever to Nora Glynn. She had been sent down by the School Board
subject to his approval. 'But my case is quite different. I chose her; I
decided that she was to remain.' And he asked himself if his decision
had come about gradually. No, he had never hesitated, but dismissed
Father Peter's prejudices as unworthy.... The church needed some good
music. But did he think of the church? Hardly at all. His first
consideration was his personal pleasure, and he wished that the best
choir in the diocese should be in his church, and Nora Glynn enabled him
to gratify his vanity. He made her his friend, taking pleasure in her
smiles, and in the fact that he had only to express a desire for it to
be fulfilled. After school, tired though she might be, she was always
willing to meet him in the church for choir practice. She would herself
propose to decorate the altar for feast-days. How many times had they
walked round the garden together gathering flowers for the altar! And it
was strange that she could decorate so well without knowing much about
flowers or having much natural taste for flowers.

Feeling he was doing her an injustice, he admitted that she had made
much progress under his guidance in her knowledge of flowers.

'But how did he treat her in the end, despite all her kindnesses?
Shamefully, shamefully, shamefully!' and getting up from his chair
Father Oliver walked across the room, and when he turned he drew his
hand across his eyes. The clock struck twelve. 'I shall be awake at
dawn,' he said, 'with all this story running in my head,' and he stopped
on the threshold of his bedroom, frightened at the sight of his bed. But
he had reached the stint of his sufferings, and that morning lay awake,
hardly annoyed at all by the black-birds' whistling, contentedly going
over the mistakes he had made--a little surprised, however, that the
remembrance of them did not cause him more pain. At last he fell asleep,
and when his housekeeper knocked at his door and he heard her saying
that it was past eight, he leaped out of bed cheerily, and sang a stave
of song as he shaved himself, gashing his chin, however, for he could
not keep his attention fixed on his chin, but must peep over the top of
the glass, whence he could see his garden, and think how next year he
would contrive a better arrangement of c