and blue-veined. The voice that sounded by his side was low and musical.

'Oh! Harry, what are you going to do?' His neighbour had ceased singing,
and was whispering tremulously under cover of the voices of the
congregation.

Harry's face hardened, and he set it resolutely towards the platform.

'Don't you know me, Harry? I am Christina Shine. You remember Chris? We
were school mates.'

His daughter! The young man let his left hand fall to his side.

'Please don't. You have come to quarrel with father, but you won't do it,
Harry? You saved my life once, when we were boy and girl. You will
promise me this?'

Harry Hardy answered nothing, and the pleading voice continued:

'For the sake of the days when we were friends, Harry, say you won't do
it--you won't do it here, in--in God's house.'

'It was here, in God's house, he slandered my mother.' The man's voice
sounded relentless.

'No, no, not that! He prayed for her. He did not mean it ill.'

'I have heard of his praying--how under the cover of his cant about
saving souls he scatters his old-womanish scandals an' abuses his
betters.'