“Well, a hen with a sore foot would sing a mournful song, I fear; but if you would come to St. Paul’s some morning and hear them sing the Te Deum, you would not think there was anything mournful about it.  It sounds just glorious!  Everyone might not think so,” she added, noting her sister’s scornful look; “but everyone does not admire psalm-singing after the Presbyterian style, either.  However, chant, psalm or hymn, it’s all one to me so long as I know the tunes, for I hate to stand as dumb as a post when I go to a place of worship.  Some people are content to have nothing more to do in the service than say ‘Amen’ at the close of the benediction, but I think a responsive service claims the attention of careless churchgoers, and gives people something else to think of besides the style of the garments of those around them.”

“Well, I enjoy looking at the styles when I go to church, and I hope people will think my hat is becoming,” said outspoken Gussie; “I believe other people put on their fine feathers on Sunday with the same object.  However, I do believe that an ugly hat is as conspicuous as a handsome one.”

“Well, I suppose it is!  I wonder if there is such a thing as a ’happy medium’ in trimming a hat.  Dear me! what a lot of things a person has to think of in this world!” and with a sigh she followed her sister downstairs.

Aunt Jennie watched them depart with a prayer in her heart that some message might reach the heart of her careless brother-in-law, and she seemed to have had her prayer answered, for he was willing enough to attend the same church the following Sunday.

But Gussie was not attracted either by the sermon or the singing.  Something else had to be the attraction to draw her out of a Sunday morning, unless she was urged with a persistency that would have moved a mule in the tantrums.

But when Mrs. Sherwood announced, one Sunday morning, that she would accompany the rest to church, Dexie felt that her happiness was complete.  She knew it was owing to Aunt Jennie’s influence that her mother had put forth this extra exertion, and though it was Sunday, Dexie felt like dancing a jig around the floor, for her mother had become even more indifferent than her easy-going father in matters pertaining to religion.

In the Gurney household there was no day in the week so gladly welcomed as the Sabbath, and of a family containing so many young children this is no light thing to say.

In the first place, the little ones were so anxious not to lose any of the many extra treats that this glad day afforded them, that they put on their best behavior with their Sunday garments—­and where is the person, little or big, that does not feel more important in his best clothes, and act accordingly.

Then instead of having breakfast in the nursery, with nurse at the head of the table, the family met around the one table, below stairs; and to the little ones this was a treat indeed.  Having the children around him only one day in seven made it quite a change for Mr. Gurney also, though it wearied while it delighted him; and each succeeding Sunday he more fully realized the blessing he possessed in his good wife, for he had none of that patience and tact that is required to keep such a family in order.