like a little boy, I think
it would look something like that child.

'Now,' I said, 'that's right; I like to see children's faces when I talk
to them; tell me your names to begin with.'

'I'm Marjorie, sir,' said the little girl, 'and he's Jack.'

'Jack!' I said; 'that's _my_ name, and a nice name too, isn't it,
little Jack? Come and look at my picture, little Jack, and see if you
think big Jack knows how to paint.'

By degrees they grew more at their ease, and chatted freely with me.
Marjorie told me that her father had sent the paper. Father was going to
preach on Sunday; he preached every Sunday, and numbers of people came,
and Jack was in the choir.

What a dear little chorister, to be sure, a chubby little cherub if ever
there was one!

'Shall you come, big Jack?' he said, patting my hand with his strong,
sturdy little fist.

'I don't know,' I said; 'if it's a fine day, perhaps I shall want to get
on with my picture.'

'On Sunday?' said the child in a shocked voice; 'it's on Sunday father
preaches, and you couldn't paint on Sunday, could you?'

'Well, I'll see,' I said; 'perhaps I'll come and hear you sing, little
Jack.'

'Thank you, big Jack,' he said, with a merry twinkle in his pretty blue
eyes.

'What is this preaching on the shore, Duncan?' I asked.

'Oh, it's our lay preacher,' he said; 'he's a good man, and has done a
sight of good in this place. You see, it's too far for folks here to go
to church, and so he lives amongst us, and has meetings in the hall
yonder in winter, and in summer, why, we have 'em on the shore, and the
visitors comes mostly. There's a few won't come, but we get the best of
them, and we have some fine singing--real nice it is! I'm in the choir
myself, sir,' he said; 'you wouldn't think it, but I am. I've got a good
strong voice, too!'

It must be a choir worth seeing, I thought, if it contained two such
strange contrasts, the big burly fisherman and the tiny child who had
invited me to be present.

I had not quite made up my mind to go. I had not been to a service for
many months, I might almost say years. I had slipped out of it lately,
and I thought I should feel myself a fish out of water. However, when
the next day came, every one seemed to take it as a matter of course
that I should be going. Polly was up early, and had dressed little John
in his best.

'You'll see him at church, sir,' she said, as she laid my breakfast; 'he
always likes to go to church, and