Hubert saw among his hearers abstracted faces not a few; interested, studious faces; and hungry faces which looked their longing for meat not found as yet in the Lord's house. Among the last class he noticed in one of the front pews a man, evidently an artisan, whose deep, large eyes looked yearningly toward the pulpit with an appeal for bread, while from it there came, through fine and learned discourse, to his untutored mind a stone. His face smote Hubert with a sudden pity, and a hunger crept into his own heart, not alone to know Christ, but to make Him known. He wondered if this man had ever seen Him as he had. Oh, if he could only tell him of Him, and turn the misery of those longing eyes into joy!
The sermon ended. It was never very long; for Doctor Schoolman well knew that patience, that sits good-naturedly for hours at games or races, or in the seats of a packed theater, has very short limits at church. He never taxed it, nor himself, too far. So the closing hymn was punctually sung, and the benediction was pronounced in tender tones upon the congregation.
Mrs. Butterworth's curiosity blossomed afresh when the meeting was over and she had the opportunity of speaking with Winifred and her mother. She addressed herself to the former, to Mrs. Gray's mingled relief and terror; relief that she herself was not called upon to find excuses, and terror lest Winifred should make herself ridiculous.
"You were not in the choir this morning?" she said with a "why" in her voice.
"No," said Winifred, "I have left the choir."
"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Butterworth in a shocked voice. "I hope not for good?"
"Yes—I think it is for good," Winifred confessed.
"Oh, please do not say so!" cried Mrs. Butterworth, but in a suppressed voice, for they had not yet left the church. "What shall we do? We have enjoyed your singing so very much!"
"I am afraid I have been too conscious of that fact," said Winifred frankly, while her mother looked alarmed. "I think I shall be able to worship God more sincerely in the congregation."
Mrs. Gray felt that the worst had come, now that Winifred had declared her position. She almost turned faint as she heard her speak to Mrs. Butterworth so simply and directly of worshiping God. To be sure they were still in the building supposably dedicated to that end, but to speak aloud of it in so many words seemed very bad form. Her daughter might sing protests of adoration in the ears of the whole congregation, with the loudest of affected fervor, and she found no fault with it. But the comfort of that was that nobody believed she meant it!