"I've called you Bob," says she, very red in the face, "and you've called me Maimie ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I'm not going to begin calling you Mr.Banks now, my boy-o! so don't you think it!"' It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with a very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted his attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr.Banks was recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in the neighbourhood to hear it.
'I hope you'll come,' said the boy.
'Where ?' 'It's all in the paper.

The students' prayer-meeting, held every Wednesday morning at nine o'clock sharp.

Special meeting to-morrow.' Hyacinth was bewildered.

There was something quite unfamiliar in this prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer.

The student with the papers began to be doubtful of him.
'You're not High Church, are you ?' he asked.