I do not like it." "But ma'am--but Mrs.Ward," said the girl, plainly hurt at the reproof, "I was practicing.

I belong to the choir." Alfaretta had dropped the tea-towels, hot with sunshine and smelling of clover-blossoms, upon her well-scoured dresser, and then turned and looked at her mistress reproachfully.

"I don't know what I am going to do if I can't practice," she said.
"You don't mean to say you sing that in church ?" cried Helen.

"Where do you go ?" "Why, I go to your church," said the still injured Alfaretta,--"to Mr.
Ward's.

We're to have that hymn on Sabbath"-- "Oh, there must be some mistake," remonstrated Helen.