he choir. I am so
used to singing for applause"--and she blushed at the remembrance of
such a motive in the house of the Lord--"or for music's sake, I am
afraid I should find myself doing so still. I mean to worship God
truly," and a look of determination settled the sensitive face into
resolute lines; "and I shall try to do that which will help me most to
that end. It seems to me now that that will be to join the others
unobserved. Perhaps I shall see it differently some day, but now I
feel it safer to put my poor, vain, little self as far out of sight as
possible and try to think of God."

"You are a dear, honest little thing!" cried Adele affectionately.
Then she added very seriously, "but it almost seems to me that if your
objections are right they might apply to the whole system."

Winifred looked perplexed. She had dimly thought of that. The word
"system" recalled Mr. Bond's phrase, "an organized system of
unreality," which she had turned over in her mind a number of times.
Would he call the choir that? She thought of the leader, who professed
nothing as a Christian; of the organist, who, she must admit, was a
drunkard; of George Frothingham with his careless indifference; and of
herself of two days ago. Perhaps there were others--very likely there
were--who sang with grace in their hearts unto the Lord, but it
certainly looked as though that were no object in their selection. But
she thought of Doctor Schoolman, who raised no objections and always
sat with such an expression of bland repose while they sang. She
thought of the elders--her own father among them--and, indeed, of
common consent everywhere in all the churches; at least, all she knew.
Who was she, who was only "just beginning to worship," that she should
entertain ideas contrary to them all?

"I don't know," she said hesitatingly to Adele, "I hope you will not
think my ideas revolutionary. I can't judge for others--others so much
wiser than I. But, for myself, I think I see the way I ought to take."
And so she settled the matter for herself, on her own convictions.

"Perhaps you are right," Adele said.

She could not speak further of the opera which seemed awkwardly out of
place in the light of what Winifred had said. After a pause she said:

"I'm afraid we are all hypocrites more or less, but it is a wonder we
had not thought of it before. But, do you know, I've sometimes thought
it rather queer that Mr. Francis should sing in our