Nort was in the wildest spirits, the rebound from his unusual mood of seriousness. Nothing escaped him--neither the napkins, nor the spoons, nor the thin old glass, nor the perfect gingerbread, nor the marvellous apple sauce, nor the glow in Harriet's face. She knew that Nort would see it all! Harriet is never so beautiful as when she sits at the head of her own table, her moment of supreme artistry. "I went to church to-day," said Nort finally. "You did!" Harriet was vastly pleased. "Yes," smiled Nort. This was truly a youth after her own heart. "Nothing else to do on Sunday in Hempfield," said Nort; "and it was interesting." He stopped and looked slowly around at me. "The truth about the church in Hempfield, David!" he exclaimed, as though we had a secret between us. I laughed. "That's one thing," I said, "you can't easily tell the truth about--in Hempfield." "Why not?" asked Harriet with astonishment. "Is there anything that should encourage one to truth-telling more than the church?" "Read it, Nort," said I, "read it." "Well," said Nort, again drawing forth his manuscript, "you know what the ordinary church report in the _Star_ is like. 'The usual services were held last Sunday morning at the Congregational Church. An appreciative audience listened to an eloquent sermon by the Rev. Mr. Sargent, his text being John x, 3.' Now, I ask you if that gives you any picture of what the meeting was like? Everybody who was there knew that Mr. Sargent preached, and nobody who was absent could get anything out of such a report. So what's the use of printing it? I thought I'd write a true report of what I saw--and I'll bet it will be read in Hempfield." The old live gleam was in Nort's eyes. Here on my desk I have the very manuscript from which Nort read, and I give it just as it was written, as a documentary evidence of Nort's life. The usual forenoon service was held in the Congregational Church on Sunday. Being a hot day, the Rev. Mr. Sargent wore his black alpaca coat, and preached earnestly for thirty minutes, his text being John x, 3. Miss Daisy Miller played a selection from Mozart, though the piano was unfortunately out of tune. There were in attendance fifteen women, mostly old, seven men, and four children, besides the choir. During the sermon old Mr. Johnson went to sleep and Mrs. Johnson ate four peppermints. Deacon Mitchell took up a collection of fifty-six cents, besides what was in the envelopes. Following is a complete list of those in attendance: --and Nort solemnly read off the names. I wish I could describe the hush which followed Nort's reading, and the horror in Harriet's face. Fergus was the first to break the tension. He seemed to be slowly strangling, and his face contrived to twist itself into the most alarming contortions. The old Captain finally observed indulgently: "Nort will have his little joke."