hummed away with a light heart.

"But not to such tunes as that! They go hopping along on one note, like a
hen with a sore foot, and then end up altogether differently from what you
expect. Chanting is not singing, and I think it sounds ridiculous."

"Well, a hen with a sore foot would sing a mournful song, I fear; but if
you would come to St. Paul's some morning and hear them sing the _Te Deum_,
you would not think there was anything mournful about it. It sounds just
glorious! Everyone might not think so," she added, noting her sister's
scornful look; "but everyone does not admire psalm-singing after the
Presbyterian style, either. However, chant, psalm or hymn, it's all one to
me so long as I know the tunes, for I hate to stand as dumb as a post when
I go to a place of worship. Some people are content to have nothing more to
do in the service than say 'Amen' at the close of the benediction, but I
think a responsive service claims the attention of careless churchgoers,
and gives people something else to think of besides the style of the
garments of those around them."

"Well, I enjoy looking at the styles when I go to church, and I hope people
will think my hat is becoming," said outspoken Gussie; "I believe other
people put on their fine feathers on Sunday with the same object. However,
I do believe that an ugly hat is as conspicuous as a handsome one."

"Well, I suppose it is! I wonder if there is such a thing as a 'happy
medium' in trimming a hat. Dear me! what a lot of things a person has to
think of in this world!" and with a sigh she followed her sister
downstairs.

Aunt Jennie watched them depart with a prayer in her heart that some
message might reach the heart of her careless brother-in-law, and she
seemed to have had her prayer answered, for he was willing enough to attend
the same church the following Sunday.

But Gussie was not attracted either by the sermon or the singing. Something
else had to be the attraction to draw her out of a Sunday morning, unless
she was urged with a persistency that would have moved a mule in the
tantrums.

But when Mrs. Sherwood announced, one Sunday morning, that she would
accompany the rest to church, Dexie felt that her happiness was complete.
She knew it was owing to Aunt Jennie's influence that her mother had put
forth this extra exertion, and though it was Sunday, Dexie felt like
dancing a jig around the floor, for her mother had become even more
indifferent than