"Look, Marty, this is a Psalter.

He was not an outwardly religious man, but he was pure and perfect in his heart.
Shall we read a psalm over him ?" "Oh yes--we will--with all my heart!" Grace opened the thin brown book, which poor Giles had kept at hand mainly for the convenience of whetting his pen-knife upon its leather covers.

She began to read in that rich, devotional voice peculiar to women only on such occasions.

When it was over, Marty said, "I should like to pray for his soul." "So should I," said her companion.

"But we must not." "Why?
Nobody would know." Grace could not resist the argument, influenced as she was by the sense of making amends for having neglected him in the body; and their tender voices united and filled the narrow room with supplicatory murmurs that a Calvinist might have envied.