Follow that with the wonderful benediction.  By the way, did you ever think of that benediction—­of its fulness?  “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you all.  Amen.”  Following that earnest amen—­nay, did it follow, or was it blended with the last syllable of that word, so nearly that word seemed swallowed in it—­came the roll of that twenty-thousand-dollar organ.  What did the organist select to follow that sermon, that hymn, that benediction?  Well, what was it?  Is it possible that that familiar strain was the old song, “Comin’ Through the Rye”?  No, it changes; that is the ring of “Money Musk.”  Anon there is a touch—­just a dash, rather—­of “Home, Sweet Home,” and then a bewilderment of sounds, wonderfully reminding one of “Dixie” and of “Way down upon the Suwanee River,” and then suddenly it loses all connection with memory, and rolls, and swells, and thunders, and goes off again into an exquisite tinkle of melody that makes an old farmer—­for there was here and there an old farmer even in that modern church—­murmur as he shook hands with a friend, “Kind of a dancing jig that is, ain’t it?”

To the sound of such music the congregation trip out.  Half-way down the aisle Mrs. Denton catches the fringe of Mrs. Ellison’s shawl.

“Excuse me,” she says, “but I was afraid you would escape me, and I have so much to do this week.  I want you to come in socially on Tuesday evening; just a few friends; an informal gathering; tea at eight, because the girls want a little dance after it.  Now come early.”

Just in front of these two ladies a group have halted to make inquiries.

“Where is Fanny to-day?  Is she sick?”

“Oh, no.  But the truth is her hat didn’t suit, and she sent it back and didn’t get it again.  She waited till one o’clock, but it didn’t come.  Milliners are growing so independent and untrustworthy!  I told Fanny to wear her old hat and never mind, but she wouldn’t.  Estelle and Arthur have gone off to the Cathedral this morning.  Absurd, isn’t it?  I don’t like to have them go so often.  It looks odd.  But Arthur runs wild over the music there.  I tell him our music is good enough, but he doesn’t think so.”

“I don’t know what the trouble is, but the young people do not seem to be attracted to our church,” the elder lady says, and she says it with a sigh.  She belongs to that class of people who always say things with a sigh.

Further on Mrs. Hammond has paused to say that if the weather continues so lovely she thinks they would better have that excursion during the week.  The gardens will be in all their glory.  Tell the girls she thinks they better settle on Wednesday as the day least likely to have engagements.  The lady knows that she is mentioning the day for the regular church prayer-meeting, and she is sending word to members of the church.  But what of that?