their blue and red ribbons. The soloists were all encored without distinction, except that the comic songs were encored twice. Nothing could have been a greater success, and everybody was ready to begin another series of hard practices.

The audience were well pleased, and went home provided with a subject of conversation, and having, at any rate, felt what it was to have their feelings stirred by something outside the narrowness of their daily life.

They had a pride in the performance, since the performers were their own friends and relatives, and Mrs. Woodford could not but own that the Choral Society had given them a very pleasant evening.

CHAPTER VII.

THE TRIALS OF A TEACHER.

MISS WALTERS lived alone with her mother, who was the widow of an officer, in a small house in the St. Michael's district. She was a bright ambitious girl, and when she had just come to Dulworth, a year or two before, had thought her talents cruelly wasted on the various odds and ends of work assigned to her by the established parish workers, and on the class of little girls which were handed over to her in the Sunday-school. When in a few months the new district had been assigned to Mr. Anson, he, being new himself, was very glad of the sympathy of other new-comers who did not regard his novelty as a crime, and he felt that he had found valuable workers in Mrs. and Miss Walters; while they, on their side, were ready to give any amount of work in return for importance and recognition. For nobody knew very much about the Walters, who were poorly off, and most of the authoritative ladies of Dulworth were people of some position, who liked to keep the work in their own hands, or to assign it to well-known middle-class helpers.

Mr. Anson, therefore, had no difficulty in finding a following, and nothing could have been more socially as well as morally delightful to the young district, than to make a great success and astonish their elders and betters. Spite of this little bit of base motive, they all · set honestly and energetically to work, and spite of their many mistakes, stirred up an interest in Church matters, which was at least a stage above apathy. Of course, the first Confirmation after the separation was a very interesting occasion, and the length of their list was a subject of great pride; but Mr. Anson's choice could hardly be other than haphazard, and none of the ladies who helped him had any real knowledge of the young women, and still less of the lads of the district. Neither he nor they were people of exceptional talent or exceptional holiness, they themselves were raw and imperfect as well as their surroundings; but they read of Father Lowder or other great lights, and they did not see, when they worked so hard, why the same

exceptional success should not follow them. But as Mr. Anson's candidates were not very regular in attending his classes, not particularly impressed by his teaching, and, in short, not in the least out of the common way, the sting of the Rector's decision was severe. Miss Walters could not help feeling personally aggrieved by the three girls who had done her such discredit, and who evidently cared so little for her, and she really felt that sort of annoyance with Alice Woodford which is the snare of teachers towards uncongenial pupils, while the strictures she passed on that ridiculous place, Roseberry, where they spoiled people to such a degree,' were unmodified by any knowledge that Dr. Goodall had been for the last thirty years regarded as one of the lights of the Church.

She poured out her sorrows to a friend with whom she went to drink tea on the day after the treat, and was thus consoled.

'Oh, girls are always disgusting. I hate them. Boys are my line. They're so much nicer.'

'And can you keep the boys in order?' asked Ethel Walters enviously.

'Oh, well, I don't think order matters when they like you. One mustn't mind their high spirits. Sometimes they flip peas at me, and once they tied the fringe of my mantle to my chair; but, you know, they're fond of me. When I went away they said, "they couldn't abear the teacher who came instead of me, she let them have no fun, and she weren't good-looking enough." Of course it was very rude of them, but still it's a great thing when they like one.'

'But I don't quite see,' said Miss Walters, 'the good of their liking one, if it dosen't make them learn and behave properly.'

'Oh, not if they're girls, of course; but boys must be won through their affections.'

Miss Walters did not exactly see the distinction. She had thought a great deal of winning the girls' affections; and as she recalled the tree the night before, she could not help thinking that a little more obedience, even if less affection, might have been very desirable on the part of the boys.

Her standard of success was not a very high one; but she felt that she had not reached it. Had she better give it all up?

She was partly consoled, and partly made to feel still more vague dissatisfaction by a meeting with Mr. Anson, who threw all the blame on circumstances, and on the unreasonable expectations of the Rector. However, both the superintendents repaired to school on Sunday morning, with a renewed determination to be as strict and severe as possible, Miss Walters feeling that the absence of the three culprits would make her hard task easier.

Behold, on the first class bench sat Alice Woodford, looking very miserable, and rather ill-tempered, but there in her place, with her lessons perfectly learnt, though she could hardly get out her voice to

VOL. 14.

17

PART 81.

say them, and if anything, less unspoken opposition in her mien than usual.

When a night's rest had given time for reflection, Mrs. Woodford had decided that she could not allow Alice to present herself for Confirmation elsewhere; but as for the Sunday-school she really could not tell what was best. Clearly it was very badly managed, and possibly going there did the children as much harm as good. Certainly she would not send them without Alice. They would not be admitted to the Parish Sunday-school, seeking for another one was unpleasant to her country loyalty, and staying away for a few weeks, and then slowly dribbling back again, was a line of conduct which, though not unknown at Roseberry, was associated in her mind. with very foolish mothers indeed.

'Let me go down to St. Mark's with Mary Jackson, mother,' said Esther; ''twill do just as well. And the treats is far better managed.' 'Don't let her, mother,' entreated Alice, at the first opportunity. 'You don't know how she carries on with Mary Jackson and Sylvia Gore. They were beckoning the boys up the stairs last Sunday. You know I told you the school was spoiling us.'

Mrs. Woodford sighed, and remained doubtful. In the meantime Alice, in the first flush of her trouble, had sat down and poured it all out in a letter to her own dear young lady; who in her strange London home was moved to indignation, and even to tears, on behalf of her child, and repaid Miss Walters' views of Roseberry, with interest, on St. Michael's, Dulworth. She had too much sense, however, to show mischievous sympathy, and though in her answer she allowed Alice the dignity of a severe trial, she counselled submission, and even went so far as to say that she herself found it difficult to deal with strange girls, and that if, as Alice admitted, she had never answered Miss Walters' questions, that young lady could not possibly have a favourable impression 'either of her sense or her industry. 'I am very sorry for you, dear Alice, and no one who knew you would think you could behave rudely at the treat; but, really, from what you say yourself, I think at the classes you must have seemed very like Melinda Stubbs.'

At this reference, Alice laughed through her tears, for Melinda Stubbs was a girl who had once spent six months with an aunt at Roseberry, and had never been known to speak on any educational occasion for the whole time. As Miss Alice Goodall and her head girls had shared in the vain effort to melt the stranger, her silence had passed into a proverb among them. Alice was conscious that she had been far too like Melinda Stubbs.

She also felt a responsibility towards Violet Almond, who declared at once that she could never go to Confirmation Classes without Alice, and that if people were so unkind it would be better to have nothing to do with them. But I will help you all the same at home, Violet,' said Alice, and I couldn't bear to keep you back.'

'I'll go somewhere else, perhaps, where you go,' said Violet. 'I don't think the Rector can be at all a nice gentleman. As mamma says, Sunday-schools and public classes aren't the thing for young ladies.'

The result of all these influences working on the instincts of her bringing-up and training finally sent Alice to her mother on Saturday night, saying

'Mother, I think I'd better go to school to-morrow. Miss Alice says so.'

Well, Alice, I think it's for the best you should. But if I hear tales of the younger ones misbehaving, I may have to speak to Mr. Anson, and then it'll be for father and me to judge if it's better to make a change.'

'I wish we were back at Roseberry,' said Alice, with renewed tears.

There, Alice, 'tis no use saying that, and when words is no use, 'tis much better not to say them.'

Mrs. Woodford did know, as few mothers in her class do, that it would be very bad for her children to give them a triumph over the constituted authorities; but her allegiance was weakened, and she felt that she would be glad of any excuse for making a change.

Alice was a little reconciled to the decision, by finding that Mary Jackson's mother, on her application to the St. Mark's clergy, had told them first, that her girl had such a liking to their church that she couldn't abear to go anywhere else. (Whereas Mary ran about with any companion she could find to half the places of worship' in Dulworth, and had even been heard to remark that she'd try the Catholic to-night, for a change.')

When there was still a demur, Mrs. Jackson had glibly declared that her girl was going to service in that part of the town, and that the St. Michael's classes were inconvenient; but never said a word about Mary's dismissal from there.

Alice felt that to come to Confirmation with a lie in her right hand would be too shocking; but she still had her trials. Miss Walters was much annoyed at the loss of her two scholars, and school matters did not improve.

Alice was not at all tempted by Sylvia Gore's account of how much they made of her at the Congregational; but the temptation was brought before her in quite another form.

Violet Almond persisted in staying away from the classes, and poor Alice was miserable to think that either her fault or her misfortune was depriving another of a privilege, and while she was still sore-hearted and angry, she was attacked on the subject by Lotty Benson.

Lotty was far the steadiest and most thoughtful girl with whom Alice was acquainted in Dulworth, she would have scorned to run after treats, and, indeed, the Bible Christians' were not in a position

to afford her many. But she was a very important person in her little community, and told Alice how she had been moved at their meetings to engage in prayer,' with many particulars about her 'conversion,' which she attributed to a certain Christian lady whom she had heard at a great revival meeting, in the very room where the Choral Society's concert had lately been held. She begged Alice not to fret about empty forms, but to come and hear the Word' for herself, and said a great deal which, though not couched exactly in the language used by any of Alice's teachers, was familiar to her in many story books, and in which she could not exactly detect a flaw, and to which, as she had never been taught controversially, she could find no answer. Lotty was so much more religious than any of her companions at the Church school, or than even she herself was aware of being, that Alice could not fail to respect her, and the conscientious child puzzled herself much over the question; while the lighter Etty was more and more inclined to yield to Polly Mason's entreaties 'just to come over and see what a handsome class-room we have at the Congregational, and what well-dressed young ladies attend it.' Etty was only restrained by the habits of obedience in which her mother had trained her. Mrs. Woodford kept the control over her children, as if she had been a lady, and Etty had happily not yet awoke to the knowledge that working-girls of her age were practically almost independent. She was only naughty and inattentive at St. Michael's; while Alice, feeling, without being able to explain, how utterly unimpressed all the Church girls in the Confirmation Class seemed by their privileges, and what a light-minded set they were, felt herself growing to have a real respect for Lotty-began to wonder if she herself was 'converted,' and to think how she should ever make up her mind to tell Miss Alice, if she found it her duty to join the Bible Christians.

(To be continued.)