were who turned their heads as the soft liquid music began to
fill the church, and the heavy bass rolled up the aisles, making the
floor tremble beneath their feet and sending a thrill through every
vein. It was a skillful hand which swept the keys that night, for Katy's
forte was music, and she played with her whole soul, not the voluntary
there before her in printed form, nor any one thing she had ever heard,
but taking parts of many things, and mingling them with strains of her
own improvising, she filled the house as it had never been filled
before, playing a soft, sweet refrain when she thought of Helen, then
bursting into louder, fuller tones, when she remembered Bethlehem's
child and the song the angels sang, and then as she recalled her own
sacrifice since she knelt at the altar a happy bride, the organ notes
seemed much like human sobs, now rising to a stormy pitch of passion,
wild and uncontrolled, and then dying out as dies the summer wind after
a fearful storm. Awed and wonderstruck the organ boy looked at Katy as
she played, almost forgetting his part of the performance in his
amazement, and saying to himself when she had finished:

"Guy, though, ain't she a brick," and whispering to her: "Didn't we go
that strong?"

Katy knew she had made an impression, and her cheeks were very red as
she went down to the body of the church, joining the children with whom
she was to sing, but she soon forgot herself in the happiness of the
little ones, who could scarcely be controlled until the short service
was over and the gifts about to be distributed. Much the people had
wondered where Helen was, as, without the aid of music, Katy led the
children in their carols, and this wonder increased when as time passed
on it was whispered around that "Miss Lennox had come and was standing
with a man back by the register."

After this Aunt Betsy grew very calm. She knew Helen was there and could
now enjoy the distributing of the gifts, going up herself two or three
times, and wondering why anybody should think of her, a good-for-nothing
old woman. The skates and the smelling bottles both went safely to
Sylvia and John, while Mrs. Deacon Bannister looked radiant when her
name was called and she was made the recipient of a jar of butternut
pickles, such as only Aunt Betsy Barlow could make.

"Miss Helen Lennox. A soldier in uniform, from one of her Sunday school
scholars."

The words rang out loud and clear, the rector holdin