Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies’ work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his assistance when she asked Fred’s, and she felt secure of them both.

“There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please.  Now will you see if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to make a festoon if we cannot fasten it.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Here, give me your hand, and I’ll look.”  Up tripped the little Bee, just holding by his hand.  “Yes, to be sure there is!  Here is a great rough nail sticking out.  Is it firm?  Yes, capitally.  Now, Alex, make a sailor’s knot round it.  Help me down first though—­thank you.  Fred, will you trim that branch into something like shape.  You see how I mean.  We must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the screen.  How tough this ivy is!  Thank you—­that’s it.  Well, Mr. Franklin, I hope we shall get on in time.”

Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses Langford would not tire themselves.

Angels’ work is Church decoration—­work fit for angels, that is to say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it!  Its greatness makes it solemn and awful.  It is work immediately for the glory of God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches before the steps of the Redeemer!  Who can frame in imagination a more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary?

Angels’ work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine.  And was that spirit of holy fear—­that sole desire for His glory—­the chief thought with these young people?

Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for the sanctity of the place.  Even in all the helping up and down ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours.