6 ACORN The organist of St. Luke's church was very much annoyed. It was Christmas Eve, and, owing to his having a severe cold, the leader of the choir was unable to sing the song in the Christmas anthem. "We will give you one more chance!" and Sir John turned again to the organ. The choristers did their best, and the rector listened. Suddenly he twisted his head and looked around, listening attentively. He thought he heard a few notes of peculiar power and sweetness, mingling with the voices of the singers. He nodded as the music ceased, and asked one of the boys to sing the solo alone. This time there could be no doubt somebody else was singing. He glanced down the church, and as the voice became more distinct, he held up his hand to stop the singer in the choir. The boy in the choir stopped singing, but the other voice could still be heard. Everyone listened to the sweet, clear notes. The organist sat spellbound, and the rector, gazing down into the dim aisles, thought that one of the choristers had strayed from the choir down into the old church, with its trimmings of red berried holly and Christmas roses. What feeling the unknown singer put into the Christmas solo! Tears came to the rector's eyes, while the organist sprang excitedly from his seat. "Oh, he has the voice of an angel," he said. "If he will but sing tomorrow night! We must find him. It is beautiful beautiful!" The rector went down the aisle peeping into each seat as he passed them, but he could see no one in the dim light. The scent of the hot-house flowers came to him, as he paused a moment to admire the beautifully decorated front, he saw a small ragged boy standing near it, gazing at a cross of pure white Christmas roses, with a background of holly. The rector laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and the boy looked up with a startled expression in his large shining eyes. It seemed almost impossible that such a beautiful voice could belong to this poor ragged boy. "My son, was it you I heard singing just now?" asked the rector. There was no answer, so the question was repeated. "Yes, and I beg your pardon, sir," said the boy. The rector was amazed. "Who are you, and where did you learn our song?" he asked quickly. "Tell me please, and have no fear for I am not angry at you." "I learned it here. I came to hear you practicing." "My dear boy, you have a beautiful voice. What is your name?" "Dick Travers, sir." "Where do you live?" ACORN 7 "I live in Pilgrim's Alley, sir." By this time Sir John had joined them and asked the lad to come up to the choir. The rector held the little boy's hand, and in the white gaslight, he was struck by his beautiful features, his fair golden curls which hung on a broad, low, forehead. The eyes were blue and shining, and the mouth was one of singular sweetness. The boy sang the solo through again. He was frightened at first, but as he sang on he gained courage and seemed to lose himself in the song. The clear ringing voice held the listeners spellbound, but the choristers looked at the ragged clothes and the bare feet of the boy, and more than one gave an audible sniff of disgust. They were soon dismissed, and the rector turned to the boy, and asked him to come on the morrow, but he could not get his promise. The rector was much interested in this little stranger whose face and manners showed him to be something above the ordinary street boy. It was getting late, and Dick seemed anxious to be going-. "Well listen!" said the rector. "If you will promise to be here before eleven o'clock tomorrow, I will give you five dollars." "In an instant Dick's expression changed. An eager light came into his eyes, and he held out both hands. "Oh, please, would you give it to me tonight instead? I will promise to come!" he said eagerly. The clergyman hesitated. How did he know he could trust the boy? "Oh, sir, please give it to me tonight; I will sure be here tomorrow if you wish." But the good clergyman believed in being on the safe side. "Can I trust you, boy?" he asked. At these words the fair head was thrown proudly back, and the blue eyes met those of the clergyman unflinchingly. "I never tell lies," he said, and walked swiftly down the aisle. The clergyman followed, and found him standing with quivering lips, and tear-filled eyes before the cross of beautiful Christmas roses. He laid his hands on the drooping shoulder. "My dear boy," he said, "I do trust you; I did not mean to doubt your word," and he put five dollars into the boy's hand. "You like flowers?" he said quickly. "Wait a moment," and going to a distant seat, he picked up a bunch of white Christmas roses and handed them to the boy. "There, take these to your mother! Have you a mother? Some day you must tell me all about your home." He turned to go, but suddenly his hand was caught and held tightly by two little fevered ones. Tears and kisses were showered on it, and then, before the bewildered clergyman had time to think, the boy had gone. Once out of the dear old sacred church, Dick ran along the streets, clasping the beautiful flowers in one hand, and the five dollars tightly in the other. His eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks flushed as he