he
said blandly, "for they are apt to be thoughtless in religious matters."

"Did you hear that, mother?" Faith whispered the question softly.

"He's a hypocrite," answered her mother, with a moan of horror. "Just
think, Faith, he is one of the men who ruined your father."

The room in which the casket lay was well filled with young women, but
not half of their faces were familiar to Faith, although she concluded
rightfully that they had all known Miss Jennings.

"Can you sing, miss?" asked a gentleman in black whom Faith saw at once
was the undertaker. "I have secured a minister, but they did not allow
me for singers."

"I'll try," said Faith, with a sob in her throat. "I can sing some of
the Moody and Sankey hymns if you think they will be suitable."

"One will do," said the gentleman. "Sing it right after the prayer. I
expect the others will all join in if you select a familiar one."

Faith nodded her head and looked around the room again. She soon saw
Miss Fairbanks, Miss Jones and one or two others with whom she had
spoken during her brief period of service. Mr. Gibson came in just then
with another reporter. The young man was taking down in shorthand what
Mr. Gibson told him.

"It is the first death that has ever occurred in the store, and
consequently the firm is much distressed over it," said Mr. Gibson.
"They are remarkably considerate of their employees, and this poor girl
was a consumptive; she was ill when we hired her."

"Do you pay all the expenses?" asked the reporter, without looking up.

"Certainly, certainly!" said Mr. Gibson. "The firm is extremely generous
in all such matters."

The reporter left just as the minister entered. It was apparent that for
some reason Mr. Gibson intended to remain as representative of the firm.

Poor little Dick cried miserably for the first few minutes, but he
finally fell asleep on Mrs. Marvin's bosom.

After the clergyman had spoken a few simple words, and offered a fervent
prayer, there was a moment of solemn, breathless silence. Some one
entered softly. It was Mr. Denton. Faith had no opportunity to look at
his face, for Mr. Davis, the undertaker, signaled her that it was time
for the hymn.

Almost without realizing it the young girl rose and went over to the
coffin. As she caught sight of the dead girl's face she seemed to
receive an inspiration direct from heaven.

Her voice was a soft, sweet contralto, and had been carefully trained.
As she sounde