Mr. Bond's consent before he left on Monday. We saw no objection. I
think, myself, that we need a little stirring up now and then."

"And the lectures are to be in the Y.M.C.A. Hall?" asked Hubert, with
interest.

"Yes, that is a central point, and we wish to make them union meetings."

"I am very glad to hear about it," said Hubert.

The rainy day passed, its somberness meanwhile lightened by a greater
glow than that of Winifred's flame-colored flowers, and Friday came,
radiant with sunshine. It was passed without special incident until
evening, which was the time of the weekly choir rehearsal. Then Mr.
George Frothingham called, as had become his wont, to escort Winifred
to the church. That had once been Hubert's task, and bitterly he had
resented it when gradually the change came about. Now he need have no
fear, for his sister was not going. She had not seen Frothingham since
Sunday, and during the day had looked forward with a little unpleasant
dread to the interview that must be. She imagined various ways in
which she should break to him the news that she had left the choir, but
none seemed satisfactory. All her little speeches left her as the time
drew near.

He found her at the piano, where improvised melodies had been working
off her nervous apprehension.

"Not ready?" he asked, after the usual salutations.

"I am not going."

"Really? You are not ill, I hope?"

"Oh, no! I never was better," confessed Winifred.

"You should go above all things to-night," he said. "Mr. Mercer is
going to give us parts of the Redemption."

The music was certainly alluring.

"I have left the choir," said Winifred faintly.

Mr. Frothingham never lost his easy self-poise over anything which this
jestingly tolerated world offered him, but he allowed himself to be
surprised now.

"You are surely not in earnest?" he said. "You of all persons! I
thought you were devoted to the choir. You are not going to desert us
for some other field of conquest?"

"Oh, no!" said Winifred.

"Have you quarreled with Mercer?" he persisted. "He _is_ cranky
sometimes. Shall I fight him?"

Winifred had to laugh at the thought of the handsome, immaculate young
man before her in a pugilistic encounter with Mr. Mercer.

"No, you needn't do that," she said; and added, "you would get the
worst of it, I think."

"Oh, really! Thanks very much! Perhaps you do not know my prowess in
those lines? But on the whole I should