it a bit queer that, as a company, we should lead off in those
things? I suppose," with a twinkle of malicious enjoyment in her eyes,
"our Emmanuel church neighbors could not find vent for their joy in the
Lord in Hosannas on Sunday, and had to work it off at their heels on
week days."

Adele enjoyed her own satire, but Winifred was too repentant to laugh.

"Oh, Adele," she said, "it is dreadful that there has been no 'joy in
the Lord' about it. At least, I never knew it in the choir. Christ
was never the center of our thoughts" (she was thinking of Mr. Bond's
sermon), "the object of devotion. If we worshiped anybody or anything
outside of ourselves it was Music."

"Orpheus?" suggested Adele.

"Yes," said Winifred, "we were pagans, I suppose. But oh, Adele, God
is so good to forgive! It seems as though He were not looking at it at
all--as if it had never been."

Adele looked at her friend narrowly. "Winnie," she said at length,
solemnly, "I know what has happened. You are converted."

Winifred opened her eyes in surprise. She had not thought to so define
her new experience. Adele went on:

"We don't talk much about it in our church, you know. But I used to go
sometimes with old Auntie Bloom--she was so blind she couldn't see the
sidewalk--to a little Methodist church of some sort, Free, or Reformed,
or something, and they made a great deal of that. Auntie Bloom used to
get rather excited over it herself sometimes when she 'testified.' I
used to duck my head when she waved her arms about. 'A new creature!'
she used to shout. 'There's nothing like being a new creature!'" And
Adele quoted the old lady with good-natured mimicry.

Winifred's face glowed. "No," she said, "there's nothing like it!--if
that is what has happened to me."

Adele looked at the happy face covetously. "You look as though it were
good, Winnie," she said, and added meditatively: "I think it is all
true about it. But you know, Winnie, when I was confirmed I really
meant to be good. It was so solemn, and I thought I never should
forget that dear old bishop's hand on my head. But I haven't turned
out much of a saint, you know, dear."

"I never thought you were wicked, Adele," said Winifred.

"Well, I never robbed a bank," said Adele, "but there's no question
about my being 'this worldly' enough."

Winifred did not know just how to answer this. It seemed a charge that
would cover both their previous lives. In a moment's