made a compromise with her conscience.

"I was reading the Holy Bible, grandma."

Grandma's expression softened; and all she said was:

"Well, dinner's waiting, now."

Grandpa was staying down town and Pete was over at the Curriers', so there were only grandma and Missy at the table. Missy tried to attend to grandma's chatter and make the right answers in the right places. But her mind kept wandering; and once grandma caught her whispering.

"What is the matter with you, Missy? What are you whispering about?"

Guiltily Missy clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh! was I whispering?"

"Yes."

"I guess it was just a piece I'm learning."

"What piece?"

"I—I—it's going to be a surprise."

"Oh, another surprise? Well, that'll be nice," said grandma.

Missy longed acutely to be alone. It was upsetting to have to carry on a conversation. That often throws you off of what's absorbing your thoughts.

So she was glad when, after dinner, grandma said:

"I think you'd better take a little nap, dear. You don't seem quite like yourself—perhaps you'd best not attempt the meeting to-night."

That last was a bomb-shell; but Missy decided not to worry about such a possible catastrophe till the time should come. She found a chance to slip out to the tool-house and rescue the Holy Bible and the sheet of paper, the latter now so scratched out and interlined as to be unintelligible to anyone save an author.

When at last she was alone in her room, she jumped out of bed—religion, it seems, sometimes makes deception a necessity.

For a time she worked on the paper, bending close over it, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, whispering as she scratched.

At supper, Missy was glad to learn that Pete had planned to attend the meeting that evening. "Revivals" were not exactly in Pete's line; but as long as Polly Currier had to be there, he'd decided he might as well go to see her home. Moreover, he'd persuaded several others of "the crowd" to go along and make a sort of party of it.

And Missy's strained ears caught no ominous suggestion as to her own staying at home.

Later, walking sedately to the church between her grandparents, Missy felt her heart beating so hard she feared they might hear it. Once inside the church, she drew a long breath. Oh, if only she didn't have so long to wait! How could she wait?

Polly Currier was again seated on the choir platform, to night an angel in lavender mull. She had a bunch of pansies at her belt—pansies out of grandma's garden. Pete must have given them to her! She now and then smiled back toward the back pew where Pete and "the crowd" were sitting.

To Missy's delight Polly sang a solo. It was "One Sweetly Solemn Thought"—oh, rapture! Polly's high soprano floated up clear and piercing-sweet. It was so beautiful that it hurt. Missy shut her eyes. She could almost see angels in misty white and floating golden hair. Something quivered inside her; once more on the wings of music was the religious feeling stealing back to her.

The solo was finished, but Missy kept her eyes closed whenever she thought no one was looking. She was anxious to hold the religious feeling till her soul could be entirely born anew. And she had quite a long time to wait. That made her task difficult and complicated; for it's not easy at the same time to retain an emotional state and to rehearse a piece you're afraid of forgetting.

But the service gradually wore through. Now they were at the "come forward and sit at the feet of Jesus." To-night grandpa and grandma didn't do that; they merely knelt in the pew with bowed heads. So Missy also knelt with bowed head. She was by this time in a state difficult to describe; a quivering jumble of excitement, eagerness, timidity, fear, hope, and exaltation...

And now at last, was come the time!

Brother Poole, again wearing the look on his face as of an electric light turned on within, exhorted the repentant ones to "stand up and testify."

Missy couldn't bear to wait for someone else to begin. She jumped hastily to her feet. Grandma tried to pull her down. Missy frowned slightly—why was grandma tugging at her skirt? Tugging aways she extended her arms with palms flat together and thumbs extended—one of Brother Poole's most effective gestures—and began:

"My soul rejoiceth because I have seen the light. Yea, it burns in my soul and my soul is restoreth. I will fear no evil even if it is born again. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. I have been a sinner but—"

Why was grandma pulling at her skirt? Missy twitched away and, raising her voice to a higher key, went on:

"I said I've been a sinner, but I've repented my sins and want to lead a blameless life. I repent my sins—O Lord, please forgive me for being a spy-eye when Cousin Pete kissed Polly Currier, and guide me to lead a blameless life. Amen."

She sat down.

A great and heavenly stillness came and wrapped itself about her, a soft and velvety stillness; to shut out gasp or murmur or stifled titter.

The miracle had happened! It was as if an inner light had been switched on; a warm white light which tingled through to every fibre of her being. Surely this was the flame divine! It was her soul being born anew...