And, in the meantime, there was absolutely nothing more important for him to do than to sit on the park bench before this wretched-looking, dishonored little church and watch to see whether any children came to Sunday school. Yes,—two were coming now. One was a little girl of six or seven, in a smock immaculately white. She was bareheaded, but her flaxen locks were bound with a bright blue ribbon that just matched the blue of her eyes. Her stockings were white, and her shoes were patent leather and very shiny. She walked with precise, proud steps, and looked down occasionally at the glinting tips of her toes to make sure that they were still unspotted. Once she stopped and touched them daintily with the handkerchief she carried in her hand, and then glanced up and around swiftly with a guilty look. By her side walked little brother. He might have been four. He might have been wearing his first pants; his feet might have been uncomfortable; the elastic cord on his hat might have been pinching his throat most irritatingly, and probably was; but for all of that he trudged along sturdily, as careful of his four-year-old dignity as his sister obviously was of her motherly office. He stretched his legs, too, to take as long steps as she, which was not so difficult, because his sister minced her gait a little. Together they swung around the corner, and their feet pattered on the board walk leading across the sod to the chapel. Involuntarily they stopped a moment where Elder Burbeck had borrowed the plank, then stepped over the hole and mounted with confident, straining steps to the platform. The sister was now a little in advance, one hand holding her brother’s and lifting stoutly as he struggled to surmount the unnatural height. But the door of the church was closed. This nonplussed the little lady for just a second, after which she thrust up her chubby hand and gave the knob a turn. The door did not respond. She rattled the knob protestingly, and then, looking higher, saw the plank nailed across. At this the small miss stepped back confounded, to the accompaniment of childish murmurings. Little brother did not understand. He clamored to be admitted to his "Sunny Kool." The little woman tried again, but the door baffled her most indifferently. However, after a moment of wondering dismay, this tiny edition of the feminine retreated no farther than to turn and sit down upon the steps, first dusting them carefully, and inducing little brother to sit beside her. Strength had been baffled, but faith was still strong. "The eternal woman!" commented John reverently. "So Mary waited at the tomb."