obtrusive than Lizzie's pink silk waist and cheap pink plumes. Elizabeth
liked it, and walked to church beside her grandmother with a happy feeling
in her heart.

The church was just across the Square. Its tall brown stone spire and
arched doorways attracted Elizabeth when she first came to the place. Now
she entered with a kind of delight.

It was the first time she had ever been to a Sabbath morning regular
service in church. The Christian Endeavor had been as much as Lizzie had
been able to stand. She said she had to work too hard during the week to
waste so much time on Sunday in church. "The Sabbath was made for man" and
"for rest," she had quoted glibly. For the first time in her life since
she left Montana Elizabeth felt as if she had a real home and was like
other people. She looked around shyly to see whether perchance her friend
of the desert might be sitting near, but no familiar face met her gaze.
Then she settled back, and gave herself up to delight in the service.

The organ was playing softly, low, tender music. She learned afterward
that the music was Handel's "Largo." She did not know that the organ was
one of the finest in the city, nor that the organist was one of the most
skilful to be had; she knew only that the music seemed to take her soul
and lift it up above the earth so that heaven was all around her, and the
very clouds seemed singing to her. Then came the processional, with the
wonderful voices of the choir-boys sounding far off, and then nearer. It
would be impossible for any one who had been accustomed all his life to
these things to know how it affected Elizabeth.

It seemed as though the Lord Himself was leading the girl in a very
special way. At scarcely any other church in a fashionable quarter of the