The reporter left just as the minister entered. It was apparent that for some reason Mr. Gibson intended to remain as representative of the firm.
Poor little Dick cried miserably for the first few minutes, but he finally fell asleep on Mrs. Marvin's bosom.
After the clergyman had spoken a few simple words, and offered a fervent prayer, there was a moment of solemn, breathless silence. Some one entered softly. It was Mr. Denton. Faith had no opportunity to look at his face, for Mr. Davis, the undertaker, signaled her that it was time for the hymn.
Almost without realizing it the young girl rose and went over to the coffin. As she caught sight of the dead girl's face she seemed to receive an inspiration direct from heaven.
Her voice was a soft, sweet contralto, and had been carefully trained. As she sounded the first note the silence in the room seemed deeper than ever. Not a voice joined in to help her with the hymn, for the girls were all spell-bound at such unexpected music.
With her eyes bent lovingly on her dead friend's face, Faith finished the verse of the hymn she had selected, but as she reached the refrain she raised her eyes beseechingly, and her glance fell directly upon the bowed head of Mr. Denton.
"It profiteth nothing, and fearful the cost
To gain the Whole world if thy soul shall be lost—"
The words rang from her lips like the peal of a bell. There was prayer, supplication, eagerness in every intonation.
As the last note died away several of the girls burst out crying, and Mr. Denton raised his head and looked at her.
Faith took her seat calmly. The inspiration had not left her. She felt lifted up in soul into a higher atmosphere, where there was no pain or sorrow—only tenderness and rejoicing.