The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-11-24

OONDA1 NON Hml wants the house shall be something very different"
 q think you are hnkind," said Vida; even if it were true, you should be SOL ry. It must be dreadful to have your allusions shattered"
 "Ah, I never had any said little Miss Nunsby somewhat bitterly. Nature and my fathers teaching settled that Tor me-"
 She shrugged her higher shoulder ever. so slightly as she spoke. Whereupon Vlaa rushed at her the tears yelling prompt ly from her eyes.
 "Ah. cruel! crueli" she cried. ito speak so of yourself, and to me-Who love you sol"
 Little Miss Nunsby held her off mo- ment, quivering between love Tor hef darling and general contempt for the worlds inequalities
 Do you love mel wonder: She sala thoughtfully Gan anyone love a thlns like me? I would be so happy if 1 could only know!''
 'I shall prove it, unbelieverl' cried Vida, with wet eyes.
 "Oh, you will get married, said Miss Nunsby land then it will be all over except perhaps a cup of afternoon tea once fortnight, if you live in the nelgn- borhood.'
 You shall see-you shall see!' an- swered Vida. .I would not for a nun dred husbands that anything should come between us."
 The little music teacher grasped her friend gratefully enough But in her heart she said, ''It is not the hundred husbands, but the one that l have cause to fear"
 The entrance of the authoritative Mrs. Walter Irongray into the choir or the Kirk of the Hill did not produce all the effect that good lady intended. Her precious, but too docile, son was still wor- ried. Regularly the precentor gave in his resignation to the Sessions once month at their statutory meeting.
 Still, after all something was affected by her staid presence. The young men behind did not pass voice lozengts wrapped in declarations of affection to the girls seated in front of them-which custom was not only unseemly Tn ltseif, but more so because frequently the bulls eye dropped out and rolled like marbles off the platform on to the heads of the elders sitting beneath.
 These venerable and duly ordained men really ought not to have been assured that Sugar was Sweet, and So were They" The information was as erron- eous as 1t was uncalled for, and re- currence of the motion on a communion day nearly led othe abolition of the choir altogether.
 But, again, after Mrs. Walter Iron gray entered the choir, her son was cer- tainly not annoyed every minute during his sermon by some chorister turning round with a half-concealed yawn to look at the clock. This was an implied reproach that the minister could i'll bear. Nor did they whisper so much, neither giggle nor nudge. nor yet let fall Bibles with clasps. I do not mean that these things actually ceased They can only cease when the earthly praise of the lower sanctuary merges into the higher and heavenly. Still, there was a differ ence, and difference, too, on the right side.
 Jacob Romer had a pew all to himself in the Kirk of the Hill. It was a square box-seat and was distinguished from all others by showing no dogs heads, or ships, or railway engines, or caricatures of the officiating minister scratched with a nail on the paint. This was because no boys ever profaned that solemn en- closure. Even at evening service, when the Kirk was indifferently lighted, and the gallery entirely closed it was never invaded. The very Muirheads, the show bad boys of Kirktown would have shuddered to think of defiling it.
 From it Jacob Romer watched over tine minister's theology, the service, and the congregation. And it was from thence that he first remarked Vida Bryan's presence in Dick Finnan's seat, and re- called the girl who had been already pointed out to him by his brother on the way to Pit No. 2.
 Thomas always was a fool!" he growled But nevertheless in his general survey of the congregation his eyes some times returned questioningly to the quar- ter where Vida sat alone, little to the left, farther down the church, in a plain, uncushioned pew. For directly behind her, only the interval of one seat sep arating them, sat MT. Romers best un- derground engineer Mir. Ludovic Marris.
 The autocrat of the Incubus Pits was wont to eye the young man murlxily for some time. Then his thin lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, thin and faded, indeed, but still a smile. And he added, still thinking of his brother. And it strikes me that Vic Morris is anotheri'