midway of the center aisle, grasping his gold-headed cane, suffered the
keen business lines of his face to relax and looked palpably pleased.
He recalled the money contributed to the expense of the choir, and
reflected that he would not withdraw a dollar of it. To be sure, he
remembered that the services of this soprano, daughter of Robert Gray,
the iron merchant and elder of the church, were gratuitous; but still
he was glad to associate the thought of his money with the choir that
could render such music. And presently the chorus joined in the song,
and many voices added their harmony, to the increasing passion of the
cry:

"In the wilderness build me a nest,
And remain there forever at rest!"

Sensitive souls thrilled to the music, which unquestionably always
added the capstone to the aesthetic enjoyment of this, the most elegant
church at New Laodicea. The minister sat with a studied expression of
approbation and subdued enjoyment. The young stranger at his side sat
with eyes shaded by his hand.

The choir seated themselves with pleased relief, for there had been no
noticeable flaw in the production. The leader's sensitive face looked
as nearly satisfied as it ever became over any performance. The
organist slid off his bench and dropped into his chair to listen to the
sermon--or, perhaps not to listen. But he had done his part well,
faithfully filling in all the interstices of time between numbers of
the program, so that the congregation had been bored by no moments of
silence nor thrust back upon the necessity of meditation.

There were a few words of introduction, and it was found that the