and morbid pride, and they melted away as if they had never
been. Sylvia Gray had come into the choir, and was sitting just where
the afternoon sunshine fell over her beautiful hair like a halo. The Old
Lady looked at her in a rapture of satisfied longing and thenceforth the
service was blessed to her, as anything is blessed which comes through
the medium of unselfish love, whether human or divine. Nay, are they not
one and the same, differing in degree only, not in kind?

The Old Lady had never had such a good, satisfying look at Sylvia
before. All her former glimpses had been stolen and fleeting. Now
she sat and gazed upon her to her hungry heart's content, lingering
delightedly over every little charm and loveliness--the way Sylvia's
shining hair rippled back from her forehead, the sweet little trick she
had of dropping quickly her long-lashed eyelids when she encountered
too bold or curious a glance, and the slender, beautifully modelled
hands--so like Leslie Gray's hands--that held her hymn book. She was
dressed very plainly in a black skirt and a white shirtwaist; but none
of the other girls in the choir, with all their fine feathers, could
hold a candle to her--as the egg pedlar said to his wife, going home
from church.

The Old Lady listened to the opening hymns with keen pleasure. Sylvia's
voice thrilled through and dominated them all. But when the ushers got
up to take the collection, an undercurrent of subdued excitement flowed
over the congregation. Sylvia rose and came forward to Janet Moore's
side at the organ. The next moment her beautiful voice soared through
the building like the very soul of melody--true, clear, powerful, sweet.
Nobody in Spencervale had ever listened to such a voice, except Old
Lady Lloyd herself, who, in her youth, had heard enough good singing to
enable her to be a tolerable judge of it. She realized instantly that
this girl of her heart had a great gift--a gift that would some day
bring her fame and fortune, if it could be duly trained and developed.

"Oh, I'm so glad I came to church," thought Old Lady Lloyd.

When the solo was ended, the Old Lady's conscience compelled her to drag
her eyes and thoughts from Sylvia, and fasten them on the minister,
who had been flattering himself all through the opening portion of the
service that Old Lady Lloyd had come to church on his account. He was
newly settled, having been in charge of the Spencervale congregation
only a few months; he w