Suddenly Mrs. Beatoun detached herself from the group and came forward, with tall figure held erect. There was a breathless pause. Those who were there knew that the wearer of the hat and the owner of the hat had met at last. “Oh,” said Mrs. Briarley, “I’m so glad you came to speak to me! I’ve been just hoping that you would!” “Indeed!” said Mrs. Beatoun. “I wanted to tell you—I’ve never enjoyed going to church as I have to-day.” Mrs. Briarley raised her rapt eyes to those of the rector’s wife, who wore a little half-cynical smile. “I think your husband preaches such beautiful sermons. I never heard any that made me feel so much like—like wanting to be good.” Her voice dropped shyly. “That is very nice, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Beatoun, politely. “May I ask where you got your hat?” “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” said Mrs. Briarley. She was so full of her own earnestness of purpose that she kept on, oblivious to the chill in Mrs. Beatoun’s tone. Her cheeks became pink, her eyes suffused. “I bought it at the rummage sale. Of course it must have been worn before, although it doesn’t look it. I bought it because—I’ve been wanting to tell you that after Mr. Beatoun’s appeal I _couldn’t_ spend the five dollars I had meant to on a hat, although I needed one. I just bought this at the sale, and gave the money to the church. I thought Mr. Beatoun might like to know he had made somebody feel that way. I never have thought of—things—before, and I wanted to thank him. I have been saying to myself, as I stood here, that if you came forward to speak to me, I’d take it as a—sign that I was to tell you this.” She paused a moment, and then went on. (While you were unburdening your heart, why not tell all?) “I have a dear little girl at home, and I do so want to learn to be better—for her sake. And I’ve thought if I could know you—I’ve been sort of afraid of you before, but I’m not now. And I love my little girl so _very_ much——” She stopped again. Something passed from one to the other as they stood there—Mrs. Briarley did not know what. There was a wonderful and sweet gentleness in the face of the older woman as it bent to the simple earnestness of the other. Mrs. Briarley’s one little thought of truth had unerringly met and rounded its circle. It is not only at the sacramental table that we are partakers together of the Bread of Life. “I’m so glad you told me!” said Mrs. Beatoun. She was not a demonstrative woman, but in that pause she had put her arms round Mrs. Briarley and kissed her, under the very shade of the rummage hat. “And Mr. Beatoun will be glad, too. No, indeed, you must never be afraid of me again; and you must bring your little girl to see us. It was just sweet of you to think of telling me about the hat.” “I’ve noticed people looking at it,” said Mrs. Briarley, all in a glow. “I never thought until to-day that it might be a mistake about its being sent to the sale. But you don’t think so?”