nd in a tone of commonplace:

'Who is Mr. Filmer?'

'Mr. Filmer's the gentleman I'm going to be married to,' said May.
'He's a very jealous temper, and I shouldn't like him to know I'd been
flirting, even with a child like you.'

It was all over.

CHAPTER IV

Paul survived. He left the church, and returned with a doubtful
allegiance to Ebenezer. He joined the singing-class there, for his voice
had suddenly grown harsh and deep, and he conceived himself to be a
basso. The parish swarmed with vocal celebrities, and he would be one of
them. He made his first visit to the class, and got there early.

Came in two young ladies in hoops, with pork-pie hats and hair done up
in bags of chenille. The like figures may be seen in the drawings of
John Leech, _circa_ 1860. Each young lady had a curved nose. One nose
curved inward at the bridge, and the other outward at the bridge, and if
the curves had been set together they would have fitted with precision.
Came in a lean lady with a purse mouth, rather open--looking like an
empty voluntary-bag. Came in a stout lady, like a full voluntary-bag,
the mouth close shut with a clasp. Came in a gentleman with shining
rabbit teeth, smiling as if for a wager. Came in a gentleman with a deep
bass voice consciously indicated in the carriage of his head--the voice
garrotting him, as it were, rather high up in the collar. Came in a
gentleman with heavy movable eyebrows, which looked too big for the
limited playground a very small forehead afforded. Came in a small
apoplectic man, bald and clean-shaven, and red and angry in the face,
like an ill-conditioned baby. Came in ladies and gentlemen who smirked
and slid; ladies and gentlemen who loitered, and were sheepish when by
hazard they caught an eye; ladies and gentlemen crammed to suffocation
with a sense of their own importance; ladies and gentlemen miserably
overwhelmed with a sense of the importance of other people.

Paul knew every one of them, and had known them from childhood; and
somehow they were all transformed from commonplace, and dignified into
a comedy which was at once sympathetic and exquisitely droll. His
narrow world had widened; his neighbours had sprung alive. His heart was
tickled with a genial laughter, and his mirth tasted sweet to him, like
a mellow apple. He could have hugged the crowd for sheer delight.

The conductor of the singing-class weeded Paul out at the close of the
first glee, and brought his music