and iron mission rooms budding out in hopes to be replaced by
churches. 

Like one of the animals which zoologists call radiated, the town was
constantly stretching out fresh arms along country roads, all living
and working, and gradually absorbing the open spaces between.  One of
these arms was known as St.  Ambrose's Road, in right of the church,
an incomplete structure in yellow brick, consisting of a handsome
chancel, the stump of a tower, and one aisle just weather-tight and
usable, but, by its very aspect, begging for the completion of the
beautiful design that was suspended above the alms-box. 

It was the evening of a summer day which had been very hot.  The
choir practice was just over, and the boys came out trooping and
chattering; very small ones they were; for as soon as they began to
sing tolerably they were sure to try to get into the choir of the old
church, which had a foundation that fed, clothed, taught, and finally
apprenticed them.  So, though the little fellows were clad in
surplices and cassocks, and sat in the chancel for correctness sake,
there was a space round the harmonium reserved for the more