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{{betlep143.png}} || betty lee, junior ||


cathedral, came the choir, chanting as the organ
notes filled the room. Betty was one of the
choir.

Up the aisle, up the steps made for the pur-
pose, they went and stood in their places sing-
ing. One by one, unhurriedly, up the different
aisles, past the quiet students and visitors, came
rich man, rich woman, courtier, girl, sage and
king, with gifts for the priest to offer. The
medieval costumes were impressive. Then, from
his place in the background, the lad, urged by
the old woman, went forward with his small
gift, all he had; and the fabled chimes that had
rung for no other, rang for him, as the guest
disappeared.

As the organ played the chimes and the lovely
girl who was the angel spoke, Betty saw her
mother's handkerchief come out to clear misty
eyes. There was the hush that meant the suc-
cess of a message. In a few moments the cur-
tains were drawn to again, and the audience
was dismissed.

But as Betty went back to the rear again,
to be in readiness for the choir's entrance in
the second and last performance, she noticed
that her mother remained for that performance,
too, though she had not expressed any such in-
tention, and “lo and behold,” as her senior friend


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