Anna of the Five Towns

hat is, a revival of godliness and Christian grace-about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan Methodist Society in Bur

s it proceeds, and ends by coercing the most indifferent-had already modified her attitude towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the cornet to t

s perusal of the evening 'Signal' to giv

h' old trumpeter 'll tu

revivalist, fat

A

asm. 'Our teacher showed us his portrait after schoo

an instant, cup in hand, and then turne

doing i' this

g about it to-morrow night, and I have to go to that.

se fo

ng out o' Price?'

nts you to go and look over the wo

e, I r

ected th

after tea. 'I'm going to th' Bank i' th' mo

acious a dream. She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without being asked, gave up her cheque-book

ting. Her intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the des

: Anna recognised his authoritative step before she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of age. And it was as if he had never been younger an

w, that she existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The r?le of professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed dis

nvass, quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the parents also to this feast of God. He wished every t

nors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost re

ion. Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and h

o see your fa

id, and gave

he most perfect assumption of equality between them, he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her spiritual welfare. The atmosp

eplied. 'Oh, ye

aid. 'I particularly

y expectant and excited, answered the bell. With an

ynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to

u a kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding

Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered with Agnes in

oing to begin my supper. I don't wait,

he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head ag

ly the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she should expire of mortification. She p

had been engaged some seconds upon t

t, and immediately Agnes flew after h

father told me that Mr. Mynors was co

It was characteristic of her father

put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross-you know-and then h

me business between hi

vely, with the child's aptitude for

"qu

d then breaking into a joyous anile: 'B

na assent

y?' Agnes

ined not to put on the apron whi

tidy,

airs now. I am c

it for you,'

well,

handed the water-jug and the bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not to have detec

d Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced t

she was worth fifty thousand pounds

the side of the man whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so intimate and free; al

me light that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full fo

vivacious and changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught the old man's hard dry chuckle. The

go to be

say good-ni

say good-nig

. I shall ask yo

g silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy herself with something. At length th

,' said Mynors. 'I wanted

her hand. Could he feel

d-ni

t.' He sai

me to say good-nig

hen his face had been seriou

she murmured af