hat not.

"We were just speaking of the singing," said the rector, "and I was
saying that it was all your doing."

"You really have done wonders," condescended she of the somber eyes. "We
have only been here a day or two and this is the first time we have been
at church."

The party moved out of the gate and up the street, the rector leading
with Miss Verjoos, followed by our friend and the younger sister.

"Indeed you have," said the latter, seconding her sister's remark. "I
don't believe even yourself can quite realize what the difference is.
My! it is very nice for the rest of us, but it must be a perfect killing
bore for you."

"I have found it rather trying at times," said John; "but now--you are
so kind--it is beginning to appear to me as the most delightful of
pursuits."

"Very pretty," remarked Miss Clara. "Do you say a good deal of that sort
of thing?"

"I am rather out of practice," replied John. "I haven't had much
opportunity for some time."

"I don't think you need feel discouraged," she returned. "A good method
is everything, and I have no doubt you might soon be in form again."

"Thanks for your encouragement," said John, smiling. "I was beginning to
feel quite low in my mind about it." She laughed a little.

"I heard quite a good deal about you last year from a very good friend
of yours," said Miss Clara after a pause.

John looked at her inquiringly.

"Mrs. Bixbee," she said. "Isn't she an old dear?"

"I have reason to think so, with all my heart," said John stoutly.

"She talked a lot about you to me," said Miss Clara.

"Yes?"

"Yes, and if your ears did not burn you have no sense of gratitude.
Isn't Mr. Harum funny?"

"I have sometimes suspected it," said John, laughing. "He once told me
rather an amusing thing about a young woman's running off with one of
his horses."

"Did he tell you that? Really? I wonder what you must have thought of
me?"

"Something of what Mr. Harum did, I fancy," said John.

"What was that?"

"Pardon me," was the reply, "but I have been snubbed once this morning."
She gave a little laugh.

"Mr. Harum and I are great 'neetups,' as he says. Is 'neetups' a nice
word?" she asked, looking at her companion.

"I should think so if I were in Mr. Harum's place," said John. "It means
'cronies,' I believe, in his dictionary."

They had come to where Freeland Street terminates in the Lake Road,
which follows the border of the lake to the north and winds ar