“That I have not been a Christian?  I know it must have been.  Forgive me for all the pain it has given you.  I have been wrong and blind.”

The maid peered in, and Mrs. Gray was glad of the interruption and to propose that they sit down at once.  She was glad of breakfast, too.  She saw no reason why the coffee should spoil, even though the son and heir of the house had just now come into an inheritance exceeding the most fabulous fortunes of earth.

The blessing was asked less formally than usual, and Mr. Gray thanked the Lord also for the Bread of Life which had visited them.  Later in the course of conversation he remarked: 

“By the way, you will all be interested to hear that Mr. Bond, who preached for us last Sunday, is to give a series of Bible Lectures in the Y.M.C.A.  Hall, beginning in about a fortnight.  Mr. Selton is bringing it about.  It was through him that we had the privilege of hearing Mr. Bond last Sunday.”

“Then it was not upon Doctor Schoolman’s invitation?” queried Hubert.

“Oh, he invited him, of course, but it was at Mr. Selton’s wish.  He is very influential, you know.  He heard Mr. Bond when he was in New York last winter and was much interested in his teaching.  So he suggested having him here for a Sunday, and himself undertook the expense.”

Fortunately for this instance Mr. Selton possessed the two qualifications, so often united in church life, of influence and wealth.

“Later,” went on Mr. Gray, “he spoke with several men, including myself, about the advisability of the Bible Lectures, having secured Mr. Bond’s consent before he left on Monday.  We saw no objection.  I think, myself, that we need a little stirring up now and then.”

“And the lectures are to be in the Y.M.C.A.  Hall?” asked Hubert, with interest.

“Yes, that is a central point, and we wish to make them union meetings.”

“I am very glad to hear about it,” said Hubert.

The rainy day passed, its somberness meanwhile lightened by a greater glow than that of Winifred’s flame-colored flowers, and Friday came, radiant with sunshine.  It was passed without special incident until evening, which was the time of the weekly choir rehearsal.  Then Mr. George Frothingham called, as had become his wont, to escort Winifred to the church.  That had once been Hubert’s task, and bitterly he had resented it when gradually the change came about.  Now he need have no fear, for his sister was not going.  She had not seen Frothingham since Sunday, and during the day had looked forward with a little unpleasant dread to the interview that must be.  She imagined various ways in which she should break to him the news that she had left the choir, but none seemed satisfactory.  All her little speeches left her as the time drew near.

He found her at the piano, where improvised melodies had been working off her nervous apprehension.