But Elizabeth was silent; only as they were crossing the little bridge she turned for a moment to Malcolm, who was following her closely.
"You have a right to be critical," she said meaningly; "I should think you must have been top of the class," and a flush of gratification came to his face.
They all went to church again in the evening, and this time Mr.
Charrington read the prayers and the lessons, in a mellow, cultured voice that was very agreeable to Malcolm's ear.

Mr.Carlyon preached.
Malcolm settled himself in his corner and prepared himself for twenty minutes' endurance, but to his surprise he soon found himself roused and interested.
If the preacher's articulation was imperfect--if he took hurried breaths and stumbled here and there over a sentence--Malcolm soon ceased to notice it.
The treasure might be in an earthen vessel, but it was goodly treasure for all that; the priest might be young and inexperienced, but he had his Evangel, his message to deliver, and the earnestness of his purpose was reflected in his face.

"Rejoice, oh young man, in thy youth," was the text; but before the short sermon was over, the row of ploughboys near them had roused from their drowsiness and stroked down their sleek heads with embarrassed fingers, as David Carlyon's voice rang through the darkening church with the concluding words, "but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." Involuntarily Malcolm glanced at Elizabeth as they rose, but she did not see him; her large bright eyes were fixed on the preacher for a moment, then her head bent meekly to receive the blessing, and to Malcolm's disappointment she made no allusion to the sermon on their way home..