ew-found
joy. The question, to sing or not to sing, had shifted to the deeper
one of relationship to God, and the peace that came with its settlement
overshadowed everything else. She went down to breakfast with a light
heart and very cheerful countenance. Hubert looked at her in surprise
from under gloomy brows. His own had been a restless night.

"Has your headache gone, dear?" asked her mother solicitously.

"Oh, long ago, Mother," said Winifred. She wanted to tell her mother
the better news than of a headache gone, but did not know how to begin.

They talked of ordinary things until breakfast was nearly over. Then
Mr. Gray said:

"Mr. Mercer was sorry to miss you from the choir last night, Winnie,
and hoped you were not going to be ill."

"Thank you, Father. Mr. Mercer is always very kind."

"He hopes you will surely be at the rehearsal Friday night, as he
expects to take up some specially fine music."

Winifred's heart heat violently as she summoned courage to say:

"I do not think I shall sing in the choir any more, Father."

"Why--what, Winnie? What's that you are saying? You not sing in the
choir any more?"

"What are you saying, Winifred," added Mrs. Gray.

Winifred nerved herself for the statement. It might as well he said
now as ever, while they were all together.

"Yes, Father," she said, "I do not think I can sing in the choir any
longer. I saw very clearly yesterday that I had never been a true
worshiper. I have never meant the words that I sang. I have scarcely
thought about God while I sang words about Him or addressed to Him.
Many of them I could not say honestly. It has all been for effect, and
to--to please you all. So I--I concluded--I--couldn't go on any
longer."

It had been a very difficult speech, and Winifred's voice sank at the
end.

Mr. Gray looked very grave.

"You surprise me, Winnie," he said. "You surprise me very much. You
should be conscientious, surely, but you will let me say I think you
are taking the matter too seriously,"

Silent Hubert shot a reproachful glance at his father. In his
estimation here was a case of downright honesty that called for
applause, not repression.

"I think your father is right, Winifred," said Mrs. Gray faintly, and
then she added, rather illogically, "but I do not understand just what
you mean."

"Can I take the truth too seriously, Father?" asked Winifred, still
speaking with an effort. It was an ingenuous questi