The verger knew
them and reserved their favorite stalls for them. They used to kneel
together and listen to the service, and, what is more, take part in
it.
But a time came when one of the girls could never return to St.
Hilda's and the other, people said, did not care to sit in the old
seat without her. They said she missed her friend and was more cut up
than any one else at the sudden death of one so fair and lovely.
When Maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than one
person turned to look at her with interest.
Maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with a
drooping plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fair
face shone in the midst of these surroundings like an exquisite
flower.
The service went on. During the prayers Maggie wept, but, when a great
wave of song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; her
voice rose with the other singers, clear, sweet and high. Her soul
seemed to go up on her voice, for all the sadness left her face; her
eyes looked jubilant.
Prissie had never been in any place like St. Hilda's before. It had
been one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at Exeter, but year
after year this desire of hers had been put off and put off, and this
was the first time in her life that she had ever listened to cathedral
music.
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