She had sung in the church choir ever since she was a child, and was the prima donna of the village.

The young girl with roses in her hat who sat in front of Mrs.Field also sang with fervor, although her voice was little more than a sweetly husky breath.

She kept her eyes, at once bold and timid, fixed upon the young minister as she sang.
When meeting was done, and Mrs.Field arose, the girl spoke to her.
She had a pretty blush on her round cheeks, and she smiled at Mrs.
Field in the same way that she would soon smile at the young minister.
"How's Lois to-night, Mrs.Field ?" said she.
"She's pretty well, thank you, Ida." "I heard she was sick." "Oh, no, she ain't sick.

The spring weather has made her feel kind of tired out, that's all.

It 'most always does." "Well, I'm glad she isn't sick," said the girl, her radiant absent eyes turned upon the minister, who was talking with some one at the desk.