"He hopes you will surely be at the rehearsal Friday night, as he expects to take up some specially fine music."
Winifred's heart heat violently as she summoned courage to say:
"I do not think I shall sing in the choir any more, Father."
"Why—what, Winnie? What's that you are saying? You not sing in the choir any more?"
"What are you saying, Winifred," added Mrs. Gray.
Winifred nerved herself for the statement. It might as well he said now as ever, while they were all together.
"Yes, Father," she said, "I do not think I can sing in the choir any longer. I saw very clearly yesterday that I had never been a true worshiper. I have never meant the words that I sang. I have scarcely thought about God while I sang words about Him or addressed to Him. Many of them I could not say honestly. It has all been for effect, and to—to please you all. So I—I concluded—I—couldn't go on any longer."
It had been a very difficult speech, and Winifred's voice sank at the end.
Mr. Gray looked very grave.
"You surprise me, Winnie," he said. "You surprise me very much. You should be conscientious, surely, but you will let me say I think you are taking the matter too seriously,"