Both Faith and her mother were heavily veiled, and as they mounted the steps it was apparent to Faith that she was not recognized by her employer.  As they passed she heard him speaking in a most affable manner.  There were only a few words, but they made Faith shudder.

“We hope this sad occurrence will prove beneficial to our employees,” he said blandly, “for they are apt to be thoughtless in religious matters.”

“Did you hear that, mother?” Faith whispered the question softly.

“He’s a hypocrite,” answered her mother, with a moan of horror.  “Just think, Faith, he is one of the men who ruined your father.”

The room in which the casket lay was well filled with young women, but not half of their faces were familiar to Faith, although she concluded rightfully that they had all known Miss Jennings.

“Can you sing, miss?” asked a gentleman in black whom Faith saw at once was the undertaker.  “I have secured a minister, but they did not allow me for singers.”

“I’ll try,” said Faith, with a sob in her throat.  “I can sing some of the Moody and Sankey hymns if you think they will be suitable.”

“One will do,” said the gentleman.  “Sing it right after the prayer.  I expect the others will all join in if you select a familiar one.”

Faith nodded her head and looked around the room again.  She soon saw Miss Fairbanks, Miss Jones and one or two others with whom she had spoken during her brief period of service.  Mr. Gibson came in just then with another reporter.  The young man was taking down in shorthand what Mr. Gibson told him.

“It is the first death that has ever occurred in the store, and consequently the firm is much distressed over it,” said Mr. Gibson.  “They are remarkably considerate of their employees, and this poor girl was a consumptive; she was ill when we hired her.”

“Do you pay all the expenses?” asked the reporter, without looking up.

“Certainly, certainly!” said Mr. Gibson.  “The firm is extremely generous in all such matters.”

The reporter left just as the minister entered.  It was apparent that for some reason Mr. Gibson intended to remain as representative of the firm.

Poor little Dick cried miserably for the first few minutes, but he finally fell asleep on Mrs. Marvin’s bosom.

After the clergyman had spoken a few simple words, and offered a fervent prayer, there was a moment of solemn, breathless silence.  Some one entered softly.  It was Mr. Denton.  Faith had no opportunity to look at his face, for Mr. Davis, the undertaker, signaled her that it was time for the hymn.

Almost without realizing it the young girl rose and went over to the coffin.  As she caught sight of the dead girl’s face she seemed to receive an inspiration direct from heaven.

Her voice was a soft, sweet contralto, and had been carefully trained.  As she sounded the first note the silence in the room seemed deeper than ever.  Not a voice joined in to help her with the hymn, for the girls were all spell-bound at such unexpected music.