Lady Gadsby and His Honor sat in Branton Hills' First Church, on a
hot July Sunday. Out-doors, twitting birds, lacy clouds, and gay
blossoms, told of happy hours in this long, bright month. Pastor Brown,
announcing a hymn, said:--
"This is a charming hymn. Our choir always sings it without company;
but today, I want _all_ you good folks to join in. Just pour forth your
joy and sing it, good and strongly."
That hymn had six stanzas; and Gadsby, noting an actually _grand_ bass
singing just back of him, thought of turning around, from curiosity;
and as that fifth stanza was starting, said to Lady Gadsby:--
"Do you know who that is, singing that grand bass part?"
Lady Gadsby didn't; but Lady Gadsby was a woman; and, from Noah's Ark
to Branton Hills' First Church, woman, as a branch of Mankind, was
curious. So a slow casual turning brought a dig in His Honor's ribs:--
"It's Norman Antor!"
Pastor Brown, standing at that big church door as folks, filing out
would stop for a word or two, said to Gadsby:--
"Young Antor is invariably in church, now-a-days. I may add to my
choir, and am thinking of putting him in it. I'm so glad to find out
about that boy winning his fight. I always _thought_ Norman would turn
out all right."
Pastor Brown was right; and two Branton Hills girls, a Salvation Army
lady, and a tiny tot of six had won crowns of Glory, from throwing rays
of light into two badly stagnant Minds.