than usual. The twins were in the class of Winona, and Winona taught her class to-day with unwonted unction; but the Wilbur twin was pestered with few questions about the lesson. She rather singled Merle out and made him an instructive example to the rest of the class, asking Wilbur but twice, and then in sheerly perfunctory routine:   "And what great lesson should we learn from this?"

Neither time did he know what great lesson we should learn from this, and stammered his ignorance pitiably, but Winona, in the throes of some mysterious prepossession, forgot to reprove him, and merely allowed the more gifted Merle to purvey the   desired information. So the Wilbur twin was practically free to wriggle on his hard chair, to exchange noiseless greetings with acquaintances in other classes, and to watch Lyman Teaford, the superintendent, draw a pleasing cartoon of the lesson with coloured chalk on a black-board, consisting chiefly of a rising yellow sun with red rays, which was the sun of divine forgiveness Once the Wilbur twin caught the eye of the Whipple girl—whose bonnet hid her cropped hair—and she surprisingly winked at him. He did not wink back. Even to his liberal mind, it did not seem right to wink in a Sunday-school.

When at last they all sang "Bringing in the Sheaves," and were ably dismissed by Lyman Teaford, who could be as solemn here as he was gay in a parlour with his flute, Winona took the Merle twin across the room to greet the Whipple stepmother and the Whipple girl. Wilbur regarded the scene from afar. Winona seemed to be showing off the Merle twin, causing him to display all his perfect manners, including a bow lately acquired.

The Wilbur twin felt no slight in this. He was glad enough to be left out of Winona's manoeuvres, for he saw that they were manoeuvres and that Winona was acting from some large purpose. Unless it wanted its money back, the Whipple family had no meaning for him; it was merely people with the Whipple nose, though, of course, the stepmother did not have this. He paused only to wonder if the girl would have it when she grew up—she now boasted but the rudiments of any nose whatsoever—and dismissed the tribe from his mind.

He waited for Winona and Merle a block up the street from the church. Winona was silent with importance, preoccupied, grave, and yet uplifted. Not until they reached the Penniman gate did she issue from this abstraction to ask the Wilbur twin rather severely what lesson he had learned from the morning sermon. The Wilbur twin, with immense 

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