THE CAROLS OF BETHLEHEM CENTER
There might have been no church had not the Rev. James McKenzie come just when it seemed tottering to a fall. There might have been no Sunday-school had not Harold Thornton tended it as carefully as he tended his own orchard. There might have been no class number four had it not been for Gertrude Windsor. But there would have been no glad tidings in one wintry heart save for the voices with which Eddie and the two Willies and Charlie and little Phil sang the carols that morning in the snow; and they came straight from Him who gave the angels the songs of, "On earth peace, good will to men."
At the end of the winter term in Gertrude's junior year the doctor had prescribed a year of rest for her, and she had come to find it with Aunt Mehitable, in the quiet of Bethlehem Center.
On her first Sunday she attended the little Sunday-school, and at the close of service there was an official conference.
"She would be just the one if she would," said the pastor.
"It can't go on as it is," answered the superintendent. "The deacon means well, but he doesn't know boys. There wasn't one here today, and only Eddie last Sunday. I wish she'd be chorister, too," he added. "Did you hear her sing?"
"I doubt if she would do that. I am told she nearly broke down in college, and is here to rest."
"Yes, so Mr. Thompson told me. But we do need her."
"Well, I will call on her, and let you know what I learn."
Gertrude hesitated; for had not the doctor said "It is not so much college,
Miss Windsor; it is church and Sunday-school and Christian Endeavor and
Student Volunteer, and all the rest on top of college work that is breaking
you down, and you must stop it"?