"I'm not a singer," she said, "but I'll do what I can."
"This is Sunnie's service," said Dr. Fergusson, as he struck a few chords on the piano.
"What do you do with yourself all day on Sunday?" Jean asked the child.
"Oh, lots and lots of things. Nurse and I make up sermons in the morning and say them to each other, and I paint texts for hospitals, and in the afternoon we always look at the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' Have you seen it? It has a picture on every single page. I did want Cousin Leslie to play it on the piano, but nurse says the Sabbath would be broken, if he did. I think I should like to hear the lions roar on the piano and shake their chains when they can't get at poor Christian, wouldn't you? Here comes nurse. Now you must have a hymn-book, and we each choose in turn."
Jean wondered, but said nothing. Quite a number of servants filed in. Four maids, the old cook, two young grooms, the old butler, and a very small stable boy.
Sunnie nodded to each as they came in. She was complete mistress of the ceremony, and when the singing began, Jean was astonished at the heartiness of it all, and still more at the sweetness and power of the child's voice.
Some of the hymns were strange ones to her, some took her back to her school days. When her turn came to choose, she hesitated.
"I'll leave you to choose for me, Sunnie."
"Oh no, that won't be fair. You must know one you'd like."
Jean shook her head, then as her eye fell on the old hymn, "Jesu, lover of my soul," she chose it without a thought of the words or meaning.