Kenneth read it through, and began, in a dim way, to understand what was done in churches like the one Connie attended, and the following Sunday he drove to St. Jude’s in Rocky Point, a distance of six or seven miles. He had seen but little of the world, and the pretty church, with its three or four memorial windows and candles on the altar, seemed a great contrast to the primitive building at The 4 Corners, where there was seldom even a flower to brighten it. The candles puzzled him, as he could not see why they were needed, when the sun was shining brightly. He was interested in the vested choir, in which he recognized one or two boys who attended the Millville Academy with him, but thought it would take a great deal to make him march with that white gown on, as they did. He was seated near the door, where he could see everything, and as he had brought his prayer-book, he tried to follow the service, succeeding pretty well, and finding the “I believe” and the “miserable sinners,” but failing in the “stir up.” It was all very new and very strange, but it was Connie’s church, and must be right, he said to his father when, on his return home, he told what he had seen and heard. “All ceremony,” the deacon said, shaking his head. “All ceremony, except the ‘I believe’ you talk about. That’s our creed, too, though I don’t think it has been said in Sunday-school in years. It ought to be, and I’ll speak to the superintendent to have the children learn it. That’s all right, and the rest may be. I won’t judge too harsh. I wasn’t brought up that way, but I’ll see to that creed.” As a result of the little mustard seed Connie had sown, the children in the church at The 4 Corners, and the grown people as well, were in a few weeks rehearsing what they believed in a manner which would have been highly satisfactory to Connie, could she have heard them. Kenneth’s voice usually took the lead, and there was always in his heart a thought of the little girl, and the prayer she had said, with her head in his lap, and the Christmas tree by the ledge of rocks, sacred to him now as the church itself, because Connie had been there and told him of things he was learning to understand.