ult if cares haunted her,
and she could confess the sin of her irritated sensations, and wishes to
have all her own way, and then, as ever, be led aright into thanksgiving
for the unlooked-for crowning of her labours.

The archdeacon's sermon amplified what Margaret had that morning
expressed, so as to carry on her sense of appropriateness in the
offerings of the day being bestowed on distant lands.

But the ordeal was yet to come, and though blaming herself, she was
anything but comfortable, as the world repaired to the Town Hall, the
room where the same faces so often met for such diverse purposes--now an
orrery displayed by a conceited lecturer, now a ball, now a magistrates'
meeting, a concert or a poultry show, where rival Hamburg and Dorking
uplifted their voices in the places of Mario and Grisi, all beneath the
benignant portrait of Nicholas Randall, ruffed, robed, square-toed, his
endowment of the scholarship in his hand, and a chequered pavement at
his feet.

Who knows not an S. P. G. meeting?--the gaiety of the serious, and the
first public spectacle to the young, who, like Blanche and Aubrey, gaze
with admiration at the rows of bonnets, and with awe at the black coats
on the platform, while the relations of the said black coats suffer,
like Ethel, from nervous dread of the public speaking of their best
friends.

Her expectations were realised by the archdeacon's speech, which went
round in a circle, as if he could not find his way out of it. Lord
Cosham was fluent, but a great many words went to very small substance;
and no wonder, thought Ethel, when all they had to propose and second
was the obvious fact that missions were very good things.

Dr. Hoxton pompously, Sir Henry Walkinghame creditably, assisted the
ladies and gentlemen to resolve that the S. P. G. wanted help; Mr. Lake
made a stammering, and Mr. Rivers, with his good-natured face, hearty
manner, and good voice, came in well after him with a straightforward,
speech, so brief, that Ethel gave Flora credit for the best she had yet
heard.

Mr. Wilmot said something which the sharpest ears in the front row
might, perhaps, have heard, and which resulted in Dr. Spencer standing
up. Ethel hardly would have known who was speaking had her eyes been
shut. His voice was so different, when raised and pitched, so as to show
its power and sweetness; the fine polish of his manner was redoubled,
and every sentence had the most graceful turn. It was like li