They saw Mr. Reeves and his family and Mr. Bonnell come in on the other side, and the latter did not rest until he had found them and sent over a bright, quick nod.

The platform was beautiful by a tall vase of roses at the side of the white reading-desk, and Eloise listened eagerly to the voices of the man and woman who alternately read the morning lesson.  The peace, simplicity, and quiet of the service enthralled her.  She looked over the crowd of listening, reverent faces with wistful wonder.  Nat was among them, Nat!  Sometimes she glanced across at his attentive face.  Nat at church, in the morning; thoroughly interested!  She pinched her arm to make quite certain.

Once when they rose to sing, it was the hymn she had heard.  The voices swelled:—­

     “O’er waiting harpstrings of the mind
     There sweeps a strain,
     Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind
     The power of pain.”

The girl in the white dress did not sing.  She swallowed often.  The voice of the child at her side soared easily.

     “And o’er earth’s troubled, angry sea,
     I see Christ walk;
     And come to me, and tenderly,
     Divinely, talk.”

What a haven of promise and peace seemed this sunny, simple place of purity.

     “From tired joy and grief afar,
     And nearer Thee,
     Father, where Thine own children are
     I love to be.”

Jewel, looking up at her companion, was surprised to see her lashes wet and her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“What’s the matter, cousin Eloise?” she whispered softly as they sat down.

The girl tried to smile.  Words were not at her command.  “Gladness,” she returned briefly; which reply caused Jewel to meditate for some time.

They had a talk with Nat and were presented to the Reeves family after church, and Eloise felt herself in an atmosphere of love.

Jewel left the group for a private word to Zeke before her cousin should come to enter the brougham.  ’Zekiel sat bolt upright in the most approved style, and did not turn his face, even when the child addressed him.

“I’ve been wondering this morning,” she said, “how we can manage for you to come to church, ’Zekiel.”

“Oh, I have it six times a week,” returned the coachman.

“But it’s so lovely just to listen to them read and not have to hunt up the places or anything.”

“I’m satisfied with my minister,” returned Zeke, almost smiling.

Eloise and Mr. Bonnell came out to the carriage, so there was no further time for talk.

The subject remained in Jewel’s mind, however.  On Wednesday morning, just before Mr. Evringham went to the station, the child seized him in the hall.

“Grandpa, don’t you think it would be nice to go in the trolley car to church to-night?”

“To—­where?” asked the broker, frowning.