"A very good meeting," said the steward, looking round with an air of
satisfaction.

"You've made me feel very small, sir," said a young man to the
evangelist. "I've a good deal further to go yet."

"It's true of us all," replied the evangelist, shaking his hand
fervently.

Anne Hilton had returned from the farmer to whom she had sold one of her
pigs, and fed the animals, but had not taken off the linen pocket which
she tied round her waist under her petticoat, and which held her money.
She was trying to get at it now in the narrow pew. She knocked down a
hymn-book and several pennies rolled under the feet of the out-going
congregation. A young woman, with roses in her best hat, nudged another
and laughed. A big boy stooped to pick up two, and restored them with a
purple face. Anne replaced them in the linen pocket, shook her skirt
down again, wrapped something in a piece of an old envelope, and
beckoning the steward gave it to him, then followed the others through
the blue square of the doorway. The steward approached the evangelist
with a rather embarrassed smile.

"Our good sister's a bit queer," he said. "I don't know why she couldn't
put it in the collection box."

The evangelist unwrapped the envelope and disclosed a sovereign. He
paused.

"It's a big gift for a poor woman," he said in a moment. "She needed to