counted her money and reckoned her week's marketing expenses during the
first lesson--all news to those below--were stale subjects here.

Old William sat in the centre of the front row, his violoncello between
his knees and two singers on each hand. Behind him, on the left, came
the treble singers and Dick; and on the right the tranter and the tenors.
Farther back was old Mail with the altos and supernumeraries.

But before they had taken their places, and whilst they were standing in
a circle at the back of the gallery practising a psalm or two, Dick cast
his eyes over his grandfather's shoulder, and saw the vision of the past
night enter the porch-door as methodically as if she had never been a
vision at all. A new atmosphere seemed suddenly to be puffed into the
ancient edifice by her movement, which made Dick's body and soul tingle
with novel sensations. Directed by Shiner, the churchwarden, she
proceeded to the small aisle on the north side of the chancel, a spot now
allotted to a throng of Sunday-school girls, and distinctly visible from
the gallery-front by looking under the curve of the furthermost arch on
that side.

Before this moment the church had seemed comparatively empty--now it was
thronged; and as Miss Fancy rose from her knees and looked around her for
a permanent place in which to deposit herself--finally choosing the
remotest corner--Dick began to breathe more freely the warm new air she
had brought with her; to feel rushings of blood, and to have impressions
that there was a tie between her and himself visible to all the
congregation.

Ever afterwards the young man could recollect individually each part of
the service of that bright Christmas morning, and the trifling