Mr. Walker made a selection for you some weeks ago,"
said Miss Winter; "did he not?"

"'Ees, but 'tis narra mossel o' use for we to try his 'goriums
and sich like. I hopes you wun't be offended wi' me, miss, for I
be telling nought but truth." He spoke louder as they got nearer
to the school door, and, as they were opening it, shouted his
last shot after them, "'Tis na good to try thaay tunes o' his'n,
miss. When us praises God, us likes to praise un joyful."

"There, you hear that, Mary," said Miss Winter. "You'll soon
begin to see why I look grave. There never was such a hard parish
to manage. Nobody will do what they ought. I never can get them
to do anything. Perhaps we may manage to teach the children
better, that's my only comfort."

"But, Katie dear, what _do_ the poor things sing? Psalms, I
hope."

"Oh yes, but they choose all the odd ones on purpose, I believe.
Which class will you take?"

And so the young ladies settled to their teaching, and the
children in her class all fell in love with Mary before
church-time.

The bass-viol proceeded to the church and did the usual
rehearsals, and gossiped with the sexton, to whom he confided the
fact that the young missus was "terrible vexed." The bells soon
began to ring, and Widow Winburn's heart was glad as she listened
to the full peal, and thought to herself that it was her Harry
who was making so much noise in the world, and speaking to all
the neighborhood. Then the peal ceased as church-time drew near,
and the single bell began, and the congregation came flocking in
from all sides. The farmers, letting their wives and children
enter, gathered round the church porch and compared notes in a
ponderous manner on crops and markets. The labourers collected
near the door by which the gallery was reached. All the men of
the parish seemed to like standing about before church, until
they had seen the clergyman safely inside. He came up with the
school children and the young ladies, and in due course the bell
stopped and the service began. There was a very good congregation
still at Englebourn; the adult generation had been bred up in
times when every decent person in the parish went to church, and
the custom was still strong, notwithstanding the rector's bad
example. He scarcely ever came to church himself in the mornings,
though his wheelchair might be seen going up and down on the
gravel before his house or on the lawn on warm days, and this was
one of his dau