Both were looking at the two young men who stood near the piano, waiting
to join in the chorus. Both had known these young men as "Nimble Dick"
and "Black Dirk."
Still another of the original seven stood in the immediate vicinity. The
glances of the two workers took them all in; then they looked at each
other, and smiled meaningly.
"I have been thinking of that first Sunday afternoon," said Mrs.
Roberts. "I asked them to pick up my handkerchief, which had dropped,
and 'Nimble Dick' said, 'Pick it up yourself, mum! you're as able to as
we be!' I wonder if they would remember it? What if I should tell them!"
As she spoke the bit of cambric in her hand designedly dropped almost at
the feet of Dirk Colson. He stooped for it instantly, but "Nimble Dick"
was too quick for him, and presented it to the owner with a graceful
bow, and a slightly triumphant smile.
But the chorus was commencing, and the bass and tenor were at once
absorbed in their work; so Mr. Ried and Mrs. Roberts had the memorial
laugh all to themselves. None but they understood what the white
handkerchief said.
Despite the laughter there was a suspicious mist in Mr. Ried's eyes.
"How far is mirth removed from tears?" he asked his hostess.
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