nd his
daughter take their seats, while several pairs of young and envious eyes
were directed toward the last production of a city milliner. After the
fans had begun to move again, the cadaverous minister rose from his seat
and in harsh, nasal tones announced the hymn. There was a hemming and
coughing in the choir's gallery, the organ bellows wheezed, hymn-books
rustled, and then, as the first strains of the organ sounded, the old
familiar lines beginning, "All people that on earth do dwell," swelled
forth in zealous tones.

Just as the last notes of the tune floated away and the congregation
were taking their seats, a man stole quietly down the aisle and entered
the pew behind Florence Moreland. His well-made clothes attracted
curious eyes, and during the seemingly interminable prayer for the
exorcism of every evil and the granting of all known blessings, many
covert glances were sent in his direction. It seemed to those who
looked, that during the prayer and the long didactic discourse upon
Solomon and Sheba's queen, which followed, his eyes were kept
continuously fixed upon the back of a gold-braided jacket in front of
him. The doctor's daughter next him glanced over his book during the
last hymn and saw that it was not open at the right place, while the
elder who passed the plate looked wonderingly at the young Croesus who
placed a greenback among the coppers and silver; but during the entire
service his eyes were not removed from the form in front of him. The
last roll of the organ died away and the minister pronounced his
benedictory prayer. During the conventional moment of silence which
followed, the sun streamed through the stained glass windows and danced
in colored shadows on the backs of the white lawn gowns; then the frocks
rustled as the congregation slowly filed out, and the solemn, Sunday
faces were relaxed into smiles of friendly greeting.

Florence Moreland waited until most of the people had passed out, then
she placed her hand upon the pew door, and was about to open it, when
she was startled by the sight of a familiar face behind her. "Harold,"
she said, when she had recovered from her surprise. "What brought you to
Fairville?"

"I came as the bearer of a message for you," Harold Wainwright replied,
as he opened the pew door for her.

"For me! From whom?" asked Florence in astonishment.

"If I may walk home with you I will tell you; otherwise you must wait."

"You are very dictatorial," she r