There was a flutter and a rustle of dismay throughout the congregation. The minister's wife was up the pulpit stairs in an instant, and she was followed by the chairman and the young Mr. Lloyd. Between them they carried the minister down into the vestry, where a few others presently assembled. "Will you run for a doctor, Mr. Lloyd?" said the chairman. Hearing the name "Lloyd," and seeing a man in minister's attire, Mrs. Murray guessed the truth at once. "I think," said she, "there is no need for a doctor, my husband has only fainted. He has been terribly worried all the year, and the last week or two especially has told on him." "I thought the other night," said the chairman, "that he looked ill." "He has not been well since," said she; and she continued, turning to Mr. Lloyd, "I believe he was the more upset that he thought an accident had happened to you in the train, Mr. Lloyd." "Oh," said the young man, "it was nothing. It really served me right for leaning against a door that was unlatched. I picked myself up all right." The chairman and the others stared; they clearly had heard nothing of that. "He is coming round," said the wife. "If someone will kindly get me a cab, I'll take him home." * * * * * That is the story of the unconfessed crime of the minister of Upton Chapel, who is to-day known as a gentle, sweet, and somewhat shy man, good to all, and especially tender and patient with all wrong-doers. [Illustration] _At the Children's Hospital._ [Illustration: CONVALESCENT HOME, HIGHGATE.] "We want to move Johnny to a place where there are none but children; a place set up on purpose for sick children; where the good doctors and nurses pass their lives with children, talk to none but children, touch none but children, comfort and cure none but children." Who does not remember that chapter in "Our Mutual Friend" in which Charles Dickens described Johnny's removal--with his Noah's Ark and his noble wooden steed--from the care of poor old Betty to that of the Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond-street? Johnny is dead--he died after bequeathing all his dear possessions, the Noah's Ark, the gallant horse, and the yellow bird, to his little sick neighbour--and his large-hearted creator is dead too; but the Hospital in Great Ormond-street still exists--in a finer form than Dickens knew it--and still receives sick children to be comforted and cured by its gentle nurses and good doctors.