e seated, and converted that corner
of the church into something between a booth in a fair and a circus
tent.

Before the service began, while the people were coming in, the contralto
pushed aside a corner of the curtain as usual, and peeped out. She then
reported to Anne in a whisper the course of events, as follows, Anne not
caring to hear, but quiescent:

"Loads of people to-day. Wonder why? Oh yes, I remember now; the
apostolic bishop's going to be here, and preach about the Indians. Don't
you love that man? I do; and I wish I was an Indian myself. We'll have
_all_ the curtains put back for the sermon. More people coming. I
declare it's quite exciting. And I forgot gum-drops on this day of all
others, and shall probably be hoarse as a crow, and spoil the duet! I
hope you won't be raging. Oh, _do_ look! Here's such a swell! A lady;
Paris clothes from head to foot. And she's going to sit up here near us
too. Take a look?" But Anne declined, and the reporter went on. "She has
the lightest hair I ever saw. I wonder if it's bleached? And she's as
slender as a paper-cutter." (The contralto was stout.) "But I can't deny
that she's handsome, and her clothes are stunning. They're right close
to us now, and the man's awfully handsome too, come to look at him--her
husband, I suppose. A pair of brown eyes and _such_ heavy eyebrows!
They--"

But the soprano was curious at last, apparently, and the contralto
good-naturedly gave up her look-out corner. Yes, there they were, Helen
and Ward Heathcote, Mrs. Heathcote and her husband, Captain Heathcote
and his wife. Very near her, and unconscious of her presence. Hungrily,
and for one long moment, she could not help looking at them. As the
light-tongued girl had said, Helen looked very beautiful, more beautiful
than ever, Anne thought. She was clad in black velvet from head to foot,
and as the day was unexpectedly warm, she had thrown aside her heavy
mantle edged with fur, and her slender form was visible, outlined in the
clinging fabric. Under the small black velvet bonnet with its single
plume her hair, in all its fine abundance, shone resplendent,
contrasting with the velvet's richness. One little delicately gloved
hand held a prayer-book, and with the other, as Anne looked, she
motioned to her husband. He drew nearer, and she spoke. In answer he
sought in his pockets, and drew forth a fan. She extended her hand as if
to take it, but he opened it himself, and began to fan her qu