He
wore a very short-tailed coat, and had his hair brushed up in a high
roach from his forehead, and these two facts conspired to give him a
brisk and wide awake appearance as he stepped into the aisle holding
a singing book in his hand.
But no peaceful, long-drawn hymn floated through the windows and
wandered into the woods. The twang of the tuning-fork was drowned by
a succession of cries. The smart young man's eyebrows went up to meet
his roach while he stood in the aisle astonished to see a lady in
trailing black clothes pounce upon a child strange to the
neighborhood, and exclaim over, and cover it with kisses.
CHAPTER XXIII.
FORWARD.
Some of the boys climbed upon seats to look, and there was
confusion. A baby or two in the mothers' class began to cry, but the
mothers themselves soon understood what was taking place, and forgot
the decorum of Sunday-school, to crowd up to Mrs. Tracy.
"The child is hers," one said to another. "It must have been lost.
Who brought it in here?"
The fortunate messenger who had been successful in his undertaking,
talked in undertones to the superintendent, telling the whole story
with an air of playing the most important part in it.
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