Almost unconsciously a sigh escaped her. There were days when a vision of the Texas prairie obliterated every other sight.
"Oh, thank you, dear! You're so good about your things. I'll take your black fur hat, if you don't mind—and the blue waist. I'm quite mad about blue just now. I never used to think I could wear it."
Blue Bonnet got out the waist, and Annabel held it against her face, trying the effect.
"I don't know about this 'Alice' shade. What do you think? Can I wear it all right?"
"You look beautiful in anything to me, Annabel—yes, I think it is very becoming. Will you walk with me to-day?"
"Surely; though I suppose Ruth will pout—but no matter! Reckon we had better hurry a little."
Blue Bonnet always declared that there was something about Trinity Church that put her in a pious mood. She felt it first when she came in sight of the splendid edifice. She loved its majesty—- its vast impressive central tower; the quaint cloisters; the rich Galilee porch and the ivy-clad walls; and once inside she could never keep her eyes from straying to the wonderful Tiffany stained glass memorial windows; the famous frescoes, of which "Jesus and the Woman of Samaria" was her favorite. She loved the service, too. Loved it because amid all the grandeur it was simple and impressive, and she could have a part in it.
It was a pretty sight to see the girls from Miss North's school march in to the church, and it spoke well for Miss North's training that they were always dignified and attentive. They took an active part in the service and sang for the very joy of singing. Blue Bonnet's strong, sweet soprano often rang above her fellows, clear and true, and her face reflected the glow that stirred her heart.
"That was a wonderful sermon, Annabel," she said as they left the church. "Dear me, how I do wish Mr. Blake could sit under the Bishop for a while. I wonder if he ever heard him. I daresay he hasn't. He's what Grandmother calls a 'dyed in the wool Presbyterian.'"
She sighed, regretful of Mr. Blake's lost opportunities.