"Jane Frost," said Miss Horne, quickly turning the direction of her attack, "you must practise all this week. Suppose Father Dorward gets a new organ? You wouldn't like not to be allowed to play on it. Some of your notes to-night weren't like a musical instrument at all. The Nunc Dimittis was more like water running out of a bath. 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,' are the words, not in pieces, which was what it sounded like the way you played it." Miss Jane Frost, a daughter of the woman who kept the Green Lanes shop, blushed as deeply as her anemia would let her, and promised she would do better next week. "That's right, Jane," said Miss Hobart, whose part seemed to be the consolation of Miss Horne's victims. "I dare say the pedal is a bit obstinate." "Oh, it's turble obstinate," said Cassandra, the sexton, who, having extinguished all the lamps, now elbowed her way through the clustered congregation, a lighted taper in her hand. "I jumped on un once or twice this morning to make um a bit easier like, but a groaned at me like a wicked old toad. It's ile that a wants." The congregation, on which a good deal of grease was being scattered by Cassandra's taper in her excitement, hastened to support her diagnosis. "Oh yass, yass, 'tis ile that a wants." "I will bring a bottle of oil up during the week," Miss Horne proclaimed. "Good night, everybody, and remember to be punctual next Sunday." The congregation murmured its good night, and Sylvia, to whom it probably owed such a speedy dismissal, was warmly greeted by Miss Horne. "So glad you've come, Mrs. Iredale, though I wish you'd brought the lay rector. Lay rector, indeed! Sakes alive, what will they invent next?" "Yes, we're so glad you've come, dear," Miss Hobart added. Mr. Dorward came up in his funny quick way. When they were all walking across the churchyard, he whispered to Sylvia, in his funny quick voice: "Church fowls, church fowls, you know! Mustn't discourage them. Pious fowls! Godly fowls! An example for the parish. Better attendance lately." Then he caught up the two ladies and helped them into the vehicle, wishing them a pleasant drive and promising a nearly full moon shortly, after Medworth, very much as if the moon was really made of cheese and would be eaten for supper by Miss Horne and Miss Hobart. When Sylvia got back to The Old Farm she amused Philip so much with her account of the service that he forgot to be angry with her for doing what at first he maintained put him in a false position.