"Sing!" she commanded as she struck a few chords of "Jesus, Lover of my Soul."
In two minutes the air was filled with the beautiful melody. The whole crowd joined and Venna stood leading them with a look on her young face that her father had never before seen.
He certainly didn't approve of this publicity, but something held him back until the last note was sung. Then he hastily stepped forward, "Come, dear, don't delay longer," he said with a gentle firmness which Venna knew meant a command.
With a happy smile she handed back the violin.
One of the young men, tall, manly, with gray eyes of shining enthusiasm, stepped to her side.
"We can't thank you enough. You have certainly drawn the crowd for us. Now I can preach."
She looked up into the earnest face.
"I would love to stay to hear you. May I, Daddy?"
"Not this time, Venna. Come, we will be late."
Hastings spoke brusquely. The spell was broken and he felt annoyed at the crowd gazing so intently at Venna.