Then the congregation arose with a surge of silken garments, doors at the head of the side aisle swung open, the music swelled into a full burst of melody with articulate words, and a stream of white-robed little boys, larger boys, big boys and men, filed into the church, singing, singing as Beth had never heard any one sing before. She could not remember to be disappointed that these were the voices of men, and not of angels, so heavenly beautiful was their singing. On they came, the wee boys holding a hymn-book that looked too heavy for their chubby hands, raising their soft eyebrows into acute angles in the earnestness of their efforts, with pure, clear child voices singing marvelously. Then there came a boy walking alone, a boy about as old as Beth. His voice soared up and up, high above all the others, singing deliciously, so sweet, so touchingly sweet, that not only Beth’s but many older eyes were wet with the emotion its sweetness called forth. Then the lovely boy altos streamed by; then the tenors and the basses of the men, holding up the children’s voices as the stone columns of the church held up its vaulted roof. Behind their choristers came the clergymen, robed also, and solemn, and the service began. Beth could not follow it, but she listened to the musical reading, the chanting, the bursts of responsive chanting from the choristers, who had ranged themselves in the dark carved stalls on each side of the altar. No chance here for a little girl to sing her beloved hymns, but Beth could not regret it, for here was music that left no room for regret, nor wishing. The sermon was short, too, and one that Beth understood and liked. She thought that the service was not going to be long enough, but Dirk evidently was not agreeing with her. Beth felt him fidgeting at her side, and at last she received a pinch that made her jump and barely keep from crying out. She turned red with pain and anger, and threw Dirk a look of such hurt reproach that he reddened in his turn, looking as ashamed as he properly should have been. “Just for fun,” he whispered by way of apology, but Beth shook her head hard. Dirk understood that she meant that a pinch that hurt as that one did was not her idea of fun anywhere, least of all in church. When the service was over once more the congregation arose with the rustle of silks and waves of perfume, and the choristers went away as they had come, white garments swaying as they sang and sang, the sound dying away in the distance into silence with a far-off “Amen,” as it had grown out of that silence and had swelled into beauty in their coming.