umulate
thereby in the eyes of God who is a Spirit, and would be worshiped "in
spirit and in truth"? It was very perplexing. She could not argue it
all out with him, but she said:

"If the individual worshipers are insincere, I should think the total
result" (she had a little of her father's business logic) "would be
insincerity."

He smiled at her reasoning. "Let the clergy thrash that out," he said.
"When they or the church find fault it will be time enough for my
conscience to twinge."

"I think one of the clergy did find fault in the sermon Sunday
morning," ventured Winifred.

"Oh, that young fellow?" said Frothingham carelessly. "I didn't find
out what he was getting at. Doctor Schoolman always looks beatific
when we sing. While he continues to beam I shall still consider that
singing in the choir is about the most pious act I do."

Mr. Frothingham was rather vain of the brevity of his list of pious
deeds.

"Oh, come on, Winifred," he continued, grasping her hand coaxingly,
"don't bother your head about such mystical things. Come on and sing.
Think of the Redemption."

She did think of it, and tears struggled to come with the thought.

"I am not going," she said, without looking in his eyes. "Don't ask
me, George."

"And you have no pity on poor me, going without you?"

"No," she answered, smiling. "You will survive it."

"Cruel lady!" he said dramatically, and bore her slender fingers to his
lips.

She withdrew her hand with a slight flush, and he bethought him to look
at his watch.

"Oh," he exclaimed, "it's late. Mercer will think he has lost me, too."

He made hasty adieux and was off, his light, swinging step sounding
pleasantly down the walk.

Winifred stood where he had left her, with a conflict of emotions in
her heart. She still felt the tingle of his lips upon her hand, and
still smiled at the airy nothings he said. But there was pain in the
compound of her thoughts; pain at a difference between them that
proclaimed its power to grow wider; pain at defeat in making a
principle understood and appreciated; pain most of all from the subtle
sense of something pure and sweet now sullied, as though too rude a
breath had blown upon a sensitive flower, or as though pearls had been
ignorantly trodden upon.

Meanwhile Frothingham, on his way to the handsome church, indulged in
characteristic meditations of his own regarding Winifred's strange
freak. He heartily hoped she would ge