But all these imaginings certainly came under the catalogue of
"wandering thoughts," from which the old minister always prayed at the
opening of the service that they might be delivered. So it is to be
feared that the sermon had not even the chance of the wayside seed in
the parable of sinking into the children's hearts. The words of her
aunt's old minister had as yet proved little more than an outside sound
to Grace, though she was in the habit of listening more observantly than
her brother. But there came a day when, amidst those familiar
surroundings, with the molten cherubs looking serenely down on her, she
heard words which made her heart burn within her, and kindled a flame
which lasted as long as life.

It was on a Sunday afternoon in November, not long after Walter left.
Miss Hume was ailing, and unable to go to church, so it was arranged
that Margery should accompany Grace. The old nurse attended the same
church, and Grace had been in the habit of going under her wing when her
aunt was obliged to remain at home. The walk to church through the
crowded streets was a pleasant change, and Grace was in high spirits
when she ensconced herself at the top of Margery's seat--which was a
much better observatory than her aunt's pew--where every thing could be
seen that was interesting and amusing within the four walls. Besides,
there were small amenities connected with a seat in nurse's pew which
had great attractions for Grace when she was a little girl, and had
still a lingering charm for her. In the pew behind there sat a worthy
couple, friends of Margery, who exchanged friendly salutations with her
on Sunday, always including a kindly nod of recognition to her charges
if they happened to be with her. Then, at a certain juncture in the
service, the worthy tinsmith, for that was his calling, would hand
across the book-board his ancient silver snuff-box, of the contents of