ise 'Naughty boys
preferred,' or do musical voices commonly exist in unregenerate bodies?
With all the opportunities they must have outside of the cathedral to
exchange those objects of beauty and utility usually found in boys'
pockets, there is seldom a service where they do not barter penknives,
old coins, or tops, generally during the Old Testament reading. A dozen
little black-surpliced 'probationers' sit together in a seat just
beneath the choir-boys, and one of them spent his time this evening in
trying to pull a loose tooth from its socket. The task not only engaged
all his own powers, but made him the centre of attraction for the whole
probationary row.

Coming home, Aunt Celia walked ahead with Mrs. Benedict, who keeps
turning up at the most unexpected moments. She's going to build a
Gothicky memorial chapel somewhere, and is making studies for it. I
don't like her in the least, but four is certainly a more comfortable
number than three. I scarcely ever have a moment alone with Mr. Copley,
for, go where I will and do what I please, as Aunt Celia has the most
perfect confidence in my indiscretion, she is always _en evidence_.

Just as we were turning into the quiet little street where we are
lodging, I said:

'Oh dear, I wish that I really knew something about architecture!'

'If you don't know anything about it, you are certainly responsible for
a good deal of it,' said Mr. Copley.

'I? How do you mean?' I asked quite innocently, because I couldn't see
how he could twist such a remark as that into anything like sentiment.

'I have never built so many castles in my life as since I've known you,
Miss Schuyler,' he said.

'Oh,' I answered as lightly as I could, 'air-castles don't count.'

'The building of air-castles is an innocent amusement enough, I
suppose,' he said; 'but I'm committing the folly of living in mine. I--'

Then I was frightened. When, all at once, you find you have something
precious that you only dimly suspected was to be yours, you almost wish
it hadn't come so soon. But just at that moment Mrs. Benedict called to
us, and came tramping back from the gate, and hooked her supercilious,
patronizing arm in Mr. Copley's, and asked him into the sitting-room to
talk over the 'lady-chapel' in her new memorial church. Then Aunt Celia
told me they would excuse me, as I had had a wearisome day; and there
was nothing for me to do but to go to bed, like a snubbed child, and
wonder if I should ever