"I suppose so," said Mona, somewhat hypocritically. She longed to make a very different reply, but she was glad to escape on any terms. "I wish you all success in your search. You will not go far before you find a fitter makeshift than I." "I doubt it," he said, going with her to the door. "Did any young lady's education ever yet fit her to do a thing frankly and gracefully, when she was asked to do it?" Mona sighed. "Education is a long word, Mr Stuart," she said. "It savours more of eternity than of time. 'So many worlds, so much to do.' If we should meet in another life, perhaps I shall be able to sing for you then." He was absolutely taken aback. What did she mean? Was she really poaching in his preserves? It was his privilege surely to give the conversation a religious turn, and he did not see exactly how she had contrived to do it. However, it was his duty to rise to the occasion, even although the effort might involve a severe mental dislocation. "I hope we shall sing together there," he said, "with crowns on our heads, and palms in our hands." It was Mona's turn to be taken aback. She had not realised the effect of her unconventional remarks, when tried by a conventional standard. "_Behüte Gott!_" she said as she made her way home in the driving rain. "There are worse fates conceivable than annihilation." Rachel was severely dignified all day, but she was anxious that Mona should go with her to the _soirée_, so she was constrained to bury the hatchet before evening. Mona was much relieved when things had slipped back into their wonted course. Her life was a fiasco indeed if she failed to please Rachel Simpson. CHAPTER XXXI. STRADIVARIUS. The chapel doors were open, and a bright light streamed across the gravelled enclosure on to the dreary street beyond. People were flocking in, talking and laughing, in eager anticipation of pleasures to come; and a number of hungry-eyed children clung to the railing, and gazed at the promise of good things within. And indeed the promise was a very palpable one. Mona had scarcely entered the outer door when she was presented with a large earthenware cup and saucer, a pewter spoon, and a well-filled baker's bag. "What am I to do with these?" she asked, aghast. "Take them in with you, of course," said Rachel. "You can look inside the bag, but you mustn't eat anything till the interval." Mona thought she could so far control her curiosity as to await the appointed time, but her strength of mind was not subjected to this test. A considerable proportion of the assembled congregation were children, and most of them were engaged in laying out cakes, sweet biscuits, apples, pears, figs, almonds, and raisins, in a tempting row on the book-board, somewhat to the detriment of the subjacent hymn-books.