kitchen. Let your ambition be to serve rather than rule, to be humble followers of the lowly Jesus.”
With an upward glance the Rev. ¬Ý Dr. ¬ÝBoldish sat down amid a silence a shade more intense than that which had greeted him.
Then slowly from the far corner rose a thin voice, tremulously. It wavered on the air and almost broke, then swelled in sweet, low music.
Other and stronger voices gathered themselves to it, until two hundred were singing a soft minor wail that gripped the hearts and tingled in the ears of the hearers.
Mr. ¬ÝBocombe groped with a puzzled expression to find the pocket for his notebook; Harry Cresswell dropped his eyes, and on Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool‚Äôs lips the smile died. Mary Taylor flushed, and Mrs. ¬ÝGrey cried frankly:
“Poor things!” she whispered.
‚ÄúNow,‚Äù said Mrs. ¬ÝGrey, turning about, ‚Äúwe haven‚Äôt but just a moment and we want to take a little look at your work.‚Äù She smiled graciously upon Miss Smith.
Mrs. ¬ÝGrey thought the cooking-school very nice.
“I suppose,” she said, “that you furnish cooks for the county.”
‚ÄúLargely,‚Äù said Miss Smith. Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool looked surprised, but Miss Smith added: ‚ÄúThis county, you know, is mostly black.‚Äù Mrs. ¬ÝGrey did not catch the point.
The dormitories were neat and the ladies expressed great pleasure in them.