Then Joe, virtuous and indignant: "I didn't, Grandma, do any such thing. Them's the very words, jist as near as I can make them out. It wasn't a piece the minister read; they just squealed it out, without anybody telling what it was; and if them ain't the words, then it didn't have any words." By all of which I trust you will understand how entirely Handel Beethoven Smith succeeded in training his choir to overcome the clumsiness of the English language. CHAPTER V. BUT, alas for us, the day of peace was not yet! It took a great deal to satisfy our leader, and he sat down after his last effort, gloomy and unsatisfied. His fierce brows remained drawn and unbending during the entire service. Almost before the "amen" of the benediction was pronounced, he expressed his mind, quite loud enough for the soprano to hear: "It is of no use to bring classic music into this choir; the singers are not equal to it. After all our drill, that A was flatted wretchedly! This is the last time; I shall never again attempt anything but the most ordinary psalm tune." I regret that I cannot give you his rendering of the word "psalm." It was spoken as though the "ordinary psalm tune" was the lowest and most discouraging of all human productions, and to be reduced to the necessity of singing it conferred a degree of self-abasement below which it would be hard to fall. Alas for our leading soprano! It was she who had flatted that miserable "A." It was she whose cheeks now glowed a painful crimson as she listened to the stinging criticism. It was also she who handed in her written resignation to Handel Beethoven that very afternoon, couched in language which he could not fail to understand. Since she, who had for years borne the name of being the most correct singer in town, and of having an unusually pure soprano voice, could not give him satisfaction, she was more than willing to resign her seat, and let him fill it when and where he could. Over this note Handel Beethoven did look thoughtful. Soprano singers whom he could control were certainly growing scarce. In his perplexity, he actually consulted Deacon Slocumb, or, at least, he grumbled before him to the effect that he didn't know what they were going to do, as their soprano had a severe attack of ill humor. He presumed he could hardly be expected to manufacture sopranos to order, free of charge; though almost everything else was expected of him. If the church had a paid quartette choir, as it ought to have, all these nuisances would be avoided. Deacon Slocumb had no word to offer, but when was dear old Auntie Barber other than sympathetic in any form of trouble? She, waiting in the aisle, overheard the grumbler, opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and moved on, then turned back and stood in the leader's way, wrapping and unwrapping her hymn hook in a painfully embarrassed manner. She was very shy of Handel Beethoven. "Well," he said in a surly tone, "do you want anything?"