Sylvia rose and came forward to Janet Moore's side at the organ.
The next moment her beautiful voice soared through the building
like the very soul of melody--true, clear, powerful, sweet.
Nobody in Spencervale had ever listened to such a voice,
except Old Lady Lloyd herself, who, in her youth, had heard
enough good singing to enable her to be a tolerable judge of it.
She realized instantly that this girl of her heart had a great gift--
a gift that would some day bring her fame and fortune, if it
could be duly trained and developed.
"Oh, I'm so glad I came to church," thought Old Lady Lloyd.
When the solo was ended, the Old Lady's conscience compelled her to drag
her eyes and thoughts from Sylvia, and fasten them on the minister,
who had been flattering himself all through the opening portion
of the service that Old Lady Lloyd had come to church on his account.
He was newly settled, having been in charge of the Spencervale
congregation only a few months; he was a clever little fellow and
he honestly thought it was the fame of his preaching that had brought
Old Lady Lloyd out to church.
When the service was over all the Old Lady's neighbours came to speak
to her, with kindly smile and handshake.
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