"It is Dorothy who is singing. She sings in our choir," said Harry.
"Hush," returned the vicar, placing his finger on his lip. "We are 'before Jehovah's awful throne.' Wherever you hear that name mentioned, you are upon holy ground."
The boy drew back awe-struck, and for the first time in his young life, realized the eternal presence of God in the universe.
After Dorothy's lessons were over, Mr. Fitzmorris asked Mrs. Martin to introduce him to her young friend.
"I hope you are not vain of that fine voice?" he said, taking a seat beside her.
"Why should I be? I can hardly call it mine, for I had no choice in the matter. It was a free gift."
Mr. Fitzmorris regarded the youthful speaker with a look of surprise. For the first time it struck him forcibly that her face was very beautiful, while its earnest, truthful expression conveyed the more pleasing impression that it was one of great integrity.
"A free gift," he said, repeating unconsciously her words. "To be used freely, I hope, in the service of the glorious Giver, and not as a means of obtaining the applause and admiration of the world?"
"Not very likely, sir. My world is confined to a small sphere. It was only the other day that I found out that I had a voice worthy of being used in the choir. I used to sing to please my father, and to lighten my labour when at work in the field."
"At work in the field!" and Mr. Fitzmorris glanced at the elegant form and taper fingers. "What business had you working in the fields?"