had passed when he again occupied his pew.

Before the organist had finished her introduction, he turned to
Alice, saying:

"There has been a change here in the choir, since I went away, and
for the better. That is a very unusual musician. Do you know who it
is?"

"Some lady, I believe; I do not remember her name," Alice answered
indifferently. Like her mother, Alice never enjoyed hearing anyone
praised. It mattered little who it was, or how entirely out of her
own line the achievements or accomplishments on which the praise was
bestowed, she still felt that petty resentment of small creatures who
believe that praise to others detracts from their own value.

A fortune had been expended on Alice's musical education, yet she
could do no more than rattle through some mediocre composition, with
neither taste nor skill.

The money which has been wasted in trying to teach music to unmusical
people would pay our national debt twice over, and leave a competency
for every orphan in the land.

When the organist had finished her second selection, Mr Cheney
addressed the same question to his wife which he had addressed to
Alice.

"Who is the new organist?" he queried. Mabel only shook her head and
placed her finger on her lip as a signal for silence during service.