"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow that made such a stir in the world but five years since. But there he lies. He always eats as much as he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking up now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have come to see you." _It_ got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly capers. "Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said as they left the building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so much." "I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out the best," said one. "Oh, Mabel, you've _no_ sense of humour! That Schuabe creature was the funniest of _all_!" THE THIRD PICTURE A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire church of Walktown is full of people. The galleries are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is packed. This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding. The harsh note is gone, something of the supreme joy of Holy Easter has driven it away. Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the long, happy day, and as the choir sings the last verse of the hymn before the sermon he sits down. The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and transparent. Age has come, but it is to this faithful priest but as the rare bloom upon the fruits of peace and quiet. How the thunderous voices peal in exultation! Alleluia! Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His eyes were full of happy tears. He saw his daughter, a young and noble matron now, standing in a pew close to the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of triumph. Christ is risen! From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre came down towards the pulpit. Young still--strangely young for the dignity which they had pressed on him for two years before he would accept it--Basil ascended the steps. Christ is risen! The organ crashed; there was silence. All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to half their height. The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the preacher's face. They all saw that it was filled with holy fire. Christ is risen! "IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN YOUR FAITH IS VAIN" The church was absolutely still as the words of the text rang out into it. The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts, of the shame five years ago. "Would that our imagination, under the conduct of Christian faith, could even faintly realise the scene when the Human Soul of Our Lord came with myriads of attendant angels to the grave of Joseph, to claim the Body that had hung upon the cross. "To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own resurrection that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily turn to those we call the dead. We feel that this Easter is for them also an occasion of rejoicing, and that the happiness of the earthly Church is shared by the loving and beloved choir behind the veil.