g of oppression and dismay. Her voice quavered
audibly as she sang, and one or two drops fell on her prayer-book as
she essayed to join in the petitions.

"Why is there not a special clause in the Litany for those who are
perplexed and in poverty? It is not only from murder and sudden death
one need pray to be delivered," thought Nan, with much sinking of
heart. "Oh, how helpless they were,--so young, and only girls, with a
great unknown world before them, and Dick away, ignorant of their
worst troubles, and too youthful a knight to win his spurs and pledge
himself to their service!"

Nan's sweet downcast face drew many eyes in the direction of the great
square pew in which they sat. Phillis intercepted some of these looks,
as her attention insensibly wandered during the service. It was wrong,
terribly wrong of course, but her thoughts would not concentrate
themselves on the lesson the young vicar was reading in his best
style. She was not heavy-hearted like Nan; on the contrary, little
thrills of excitement, of impatience, of repressed amusement, pervaded
her mind, as she looked at the strange faces round her "They would not
be long strange," she thought: "some of them would be her neighbors.
What would they say, all these people, when they knew----" And here
Phillis held her breath a moment. People were wondering even now who
they were. They had dressed themselves that morning, rehearsing their
parts, as it were, with studied simplicity. The gown Nan wore was as
inexpensive as a gown could be; her hat was a model of neatness and
propriety: nevertheless, Phillis groaned in spirit as she glanced at
her. Where had she got that style? She looked like a young princess
who was playing at Arcadia. Would people ever dare to ask her to work
for them? Would they not beg her pardon, and cry shame on themselves
for entertaining such a thought for a moment? Phillis almost envied
Nan, who was shedding salt tears on her prayer-book. She thought she
was absorbed in her devotions, while her own thoughts would wander so
sadly; and then a handsome face in the opposite pew attracted her
attention. Surely that must be Mrs. Cheyne, who lived in the White
House near them, of whom Nan had talked,--the poor woman who had lost
husband and children and who lived in solitary state. The sermon had
now commenced, but Phillis turned a deaf ear to the sentences over
which Mr. Drummond had expended so much labor: her attention was
riveted by the gl