t than usual. She was
so anxious to hurry home, so fearful of being too late. Now it was all
right. Hilda was still in the church, and, delightful--more than
delightful--the discordant notes of the choir had ceased, and only the
delicious sounds of the organ were borne on the breeze.

"Hilda is in the church," said Judy, pulling her governess by her
sleeve. "Good-by, Miss Mills; good-by, Babs."

She rushed away, scarcely heeding her governess's voice as it called
after her to be sure to be back at the Rectory in time for tea.

The church doors were still open, but the young man in the
cricketing-flannels, who had stood in the porch when Judy had started on
her walk, was no longer to be seen. The little girl stole into the quiet
church on tip-toe, crept up to her sister Hilda's side, and lying down
on the floor, laid her head on her sister's white dress.

Judy's lips kissed the hem of the dress two or three times; then she lay
quiet, a sweet expression round her lips, a tranquil, satisfied light in
her eyes. Here she was at rest, her eager, craving heart was full and
satisfied.

"You dear little monkey!" said Hilda, pausing for a moment in her really
magnificent rendering of one of Bach's most passionate fugues. She
touched the child's head lightly with her hand as she spoke.

"Oh, don't stop, Hilda; go on. I am so happy," whispered Judy back.

Hilda smiled, and immediately resumed the music which thrilled through
and through Judy's soul.

Hilda was eighteen, and the full glory and bloom of this perfect age
surrounded her; it shone in her dark red-brown hair, and gleamed in her
brown eyes, and smiled on her lips and even echoed from her sweet voice.
Hilda would always be lovely to look at, but she had the tender radiance
of early spring about her now. Judy was not the only person who thought
her the fairest creature in the world.

While she was playing, and the influence of the music was more and more
filling her face, there came a shadow across the church door. The shadow
lengthened and grew longer, and the young man, whose smile Judy had
ignored, came softly across the church and up to Hilda's side.

"Go on playing," he said, nodding to her. "I have been waiting and
listening. I can wait and listen a little longer if you will allow me to
sit in the church."

"I shall have done in a moment," said Hilda. "I just want to choose
something for the final voluntary." She took up a book of lighter music
as she spo