Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-30

they waited Tor the collapse OF lhc
singing.
But it was not the hopeless failure
they expected it to be. Their revenge
singing. The organ sped its multison-
Gus way with the abandon of cal
Hope at a circus. 1t cared pot a
penny who sang or who didn'ts Its
very abandon was inviting, and they
fain would have joined in the singing,
but pride forbade them.
The tailor became more and more
crestfallen as the service progressed.
He fingered his hymn book longingly,
but he could not bring himself to
start again.
Seeing his detection, Jean forgot
her own disappointment and yearned
over him. She understood only too
keenly how he was missing the exalta-
ton of singing TO the full capacity of
his lungs. She knew only too well
the sense OF loss he felt. and the
bitter hurt to his pride. His emotions
found dual echo in her breast; she
was heartsick for herself but she was
doubly heartsick for him. Her one
thought was TO save his pride for him
at any cost.
4 r the close of the service she
"A eluded her mother, and caught
up with him. 1t was a thing she
could not have done for herself. But
she was doing this for him. Nothing
else could have given her courage to
make that advance under the eyes of
the. congregation. She reached his
side gasping, and a little hesitant, but
the sight of his respondent face
spurred her afresh, and she cried
with well simulated derision; Heard
we ever such singin'! A lot o. women
squeakin' like mice in a trap, an no
a mans voice among the lott
He braced up at her approach and
the gloom lifted from his face at her
words, but settled back again, as he
answered doubtfully: ''Skilly an the
minister were singin'"
"Singin', were they Jean cried.
Man, yer Over-generous to call it
singin'.'
They're no so bad" he said, in
viting her to fresh protest. She
laughed shrilly. ''Ye ken fine, we
never had a proper mans voice till
we came
The swing was coming back to his
shoulders again, and he was taking
bigger strides.
Think We that" he questioned
anxiously. II had a notion we didna
like my singing"
He would never know what her
next words cost her. For a moment,
the old rivalry came to life and pride
strove with love. In that swift space
she was a singer again, proud of her
voice and contemptuous of his, but
only for a moment. Then came her
admission from quiet lips: II was
jealous o yer voice; jealous o yer
breath bein' longer than mine With
those words she retired forever. leav-
ing the stage to him. She would
never compete with him again.
His step was jaunty now. and his
face beamed with qualification.
AYE, my breath is lot longer than
yours" he replied.
jeans heart faltered a little at his
reply. 1t was true that his breath
was longer than hers; it was true that
his voice was louder, but he might
have something kind about her voice
even If he didn't believe it. She could
tell any lie to make him feel better;
it hurt that he didn't care to lie for
her. Now that his spirits were re-
stored and he no longer needed her,
Jean lost her courage. A dull ache
assailed her heart and sharp tears
forced their way into her eyes. Her
trimming tears were about to fall in
spite of her struggle to keep them
back, but the tailor saved her this
humiliation. His momentary eXhilara-
ton was passing away, and shadows
We're gathering over him again.
II missed the singin'," he sighed
dolefully. Il like to sing. 1t seems
like as if had to sing something out
O. me on the Sabbath, to get fresh
start for the next week"
II ken what we mean" Jean cried,
with ready sympathy. blinking away
her unseen tears. That's the way
feel-bottled up like
AYE" he agreed.
A daring thought came to Jean.
II haze q harmonium. Would We like
to step in by WI me for an hour an
sing the hymns?"
He looked full at her, and there
was admiration in his eyes. ''Ye can
play?" he questioned eagerly. I'D
like it fine, if-if-"
Jean knew what he meant.
MY father likes music she an
swered.
She was fiuttering inside like
nest of young birds. half with joy and
half with fear of her father. But she
would go through with it.
AS they reached the door, Mistress
MacFarlane caught up with them. She
had already decided that Jeans we'd
ding veil would be at least half a
yard longer than the veil of that high
handed lassie of the druggists had
been.
I'm goin' to play the hymns for
Mr.. MacGregor," Jean explained.
Aye, aye" said Mistress MacFar-
lane, with a comfortable, round pink
smile. as If 1t were the most natural
thing in the world. Aye, aye, that
will be fine" With AN elaborate wink
to Jean, she slipped in and up the
stairs. Understanding her maneuver.
Jean fingered below until she heard
the kitchen door shut quickly, then.
knowing that her father was safely
imprisoned, she followed, leading the
tailor into the parlor.
X X
TT was well that Mistress MacFar-
lane went first and pushed the en-
ragged Penney backward into the
kitchen, for he had seen Jean APP
preaching with the *Tattie- Doodle"
and was eShing at her treachery.
what ne1ns this?" he demanded.