Fräulein Pfaff rose and moved away. The girls were arranging the chairs in two rows--plates and cups were collected and carried away. It dawned on Miriam that they were going to have prayers. What a wet-blanket on her evening. Everything had been so bright and exciting so far. Obviously they had prayers every night. She felt exceedingly uncomfortable. She had never seen prayers in a sitting-room. It had been nothing at school--all the girls standing in the drill-room, rows of voices saying "adsum," then a Collect and the Lord's Prayer. A huge Bible appeared on a table in front of Fräulein's high-backed chair. Miriam found herself ranged with the girls, sitting in an attentive hush. There was a quiet, slow turning of pages, and then a long indrawn sigh and Fräulein's clear, low, even voice, very gentle, not caustic now but with something child-like about it, "Und da kamen die Apostel zu Ihm...." Miriam had a moment of revolt. She would not sit there and let a woman read the Bible at her ... and in that "smarmy" way.... In spirit she rose and marched out of the room. As the English pupil-teacher bound to suffer all things or go home, she sat on. Presently her ear was charmed by Fräulein's slow clear enunciation, her pure unaspirated North German. It seemed to suit the narrative--and the narrative was new, vivid and real in this new tongue. She saw presently the little group of figures talking by the lake and was sorry when Fräulein's voice ceased. Solomon Martin was at the piano. Someone handed Miriam a shabby little paper-backed hymn-book. She fluttered the leaves. All the hymns appeared to have a little short-lined verse, under each ordinary verse, in small print. It was in English--she read. She fumbled for the title-page and then her cheeks flamed with shame, "Moody and Sankey." She was incredulous, but there it was, clearly enough. What was such a thing doing here?... Finishing school for the daughters of gentlemen.... She had never had such a thing in her hands before.... Fräulein could not know.... She glanced at her, but Fräulein's cavernous mouth was serenely open and the voices of the girls sang heartily, "Whenhy--_com_eth. Whenhy--_com_eth, to _make_-up his _jew_els----" These girls, Germany, that piano.... What did the English girls think? Had anyone said anything? Were they chapel? Fearfully, she told them over. No. Judy might be, and the Martins perhaps, but not Gertrude, nor Jimmie, nor Millie. How did it happen? What was the German Church? Luther--Lutheran. She longed for the end. She glanced through the book--frightful, frightful words and choruses. The girls were getting on to their knees. Oh dear, every night. Her elbows sank into soft red plush. She was to have time for practising--and that English lesson--the first--Oxford, decisive for--educated people.... Fräulein's calm voice came almost in a whisper, "Vater unser ... der Du bist im Himmel," and the murmuring voices of the girls followed her.