We'll see that the key is left at Mrs Giles's.'
'Thank you, my dear. Then I may as well go. I thought I'd come in and see that it was all right. I'm sure Mr Boyce will be very much obliged to you and Miss Crawley. Good-night, my dear.'
'Good-night, Mrs Boyce; and be sure you don't let Mr Swanton be long tomorrow.' To this parting shot Mrs Boyce made no rejoinder; but she hurried out of the church somewhat the quicker for it, and closed the door after her with something of a slam.
Of all persons clergymen are the most irreverent in the handling of things supposed to be sacred, and next to them clergyman's wives, and after them those other ladies, old or young, who take upon themselves semi-clerical duties. And it is natural that it should be so; for is it not said that familiarity does breed contempt? When a parson takes his lay friend over his church on a week day, how much less of the spirit of genuflexion and head-uncovering the clergyman will display to the layman! The parson pulls about the woodwork and knocks about the stonework, as though it were mere wood and stone; and talks aloud in the aisle, and treats even the reading-desk as a common thing; whereas the visitor whispers gently, and carries himself as though even in looking at a church he was bound to regard himself as performing some service that was half divine. Now Lily Dale and Grace Crawley were both accustomed to churches, and had been so long at work in this church for the last two days, that the building had lost to them much of its sacredness, and they were almost as irreverent as though they were two curates.
'I am so glad she has gone,' said Lily. 'We shall have to stop here for the next hour, as Gregory won't know what to take away and what to leave. I was so afraid she was going to stop and see us off the premises.'
'I don't know why you should dislike her.'
'I don't dislike her. I like her very well,' said Lily Dale. 'But don't you feel that there are people whom one knows very intimately, who are really friends--for whom if they were dying one would grieve, whom if they were in misfortune one would go far to help, but with whom for all that one can have no sympathy. And yet they are so near to one that they know all the events of one's life, and are justified by unquestioned friendship in talking about things which should never be mentioned except where sympathy exists.'
'Yes; I understand that.'
'Everybody understands it who has been unhappy. That woman sometimes says things to me that make me wish--wish that they'd make him bishop of Patagonia. And yet does it all in friendship, and mamma says that she is quite right.'
'I liked her for standing up for her husband.'
'But he does go to sleep--and then he scratches his nose to show that he's awake. I shouldn't have said it, only she is always hinting at uncle Christopher. Uncle Christopher certainly does go to sleep when Mr Boyce preaches, and he hasn't studied any scientific little movement during his slumbers to make the people believe that he's all alive. Igave him a hint one day, and he got angry with me!'
'I shouldn't have thought he could have been angry with you. It seems to me from what you say that you may do whatever you please with him.'
'He is very good to me. If you knew it all--if you could understand how good he has been! I'll try and tell you one day. It is not what he has done that makes me love him so--but what he has thoroughly understood, and what, so understanding, he has not done, and what he has not said.
It is a case of sympathy. If ever there was a gentleman uncle Christopher is one. And I used to dislike him so, at one time!'
'And why?'
'Chiefly because he would make me wear brown frocks when I wanted to have them pink or green. And he kept me for six months from having them long, and up to this day he scolds me if there is half an inch on the ground for him to tread upon.'
'I shouldn't mind that if I were you.'
'I don't--not now. But it used to be serious when I was a young girl.
And we thought, Bell and I, that he was cross to mamma. He and mamma didn't agree at first, you know, as they do now. It is quite true that he did dislike mamma when we first came.'
'I can't think how anybody could ever dislike Mrs Dale.'
'But he did. And then he wanted to make up a marriage between Bell and my cousin Bernard. But neither of them cared a bit for each other, and then he used to scold them--and then--and then --and then--Oh, he was so good to me! Here's Gregory at last. Gregory, we've been waiting this hour and a half.'
'It ain't ten minutes since Hopkins let me come with the barrows, miss.'
'Then Hopkins is a traitor. Never mind. You'd better begin now --up there at the steps. It'll be quite dark in a few minutes. Here's Mrs Giles with her broom. Come, Mrs Giles; we shall have to pass the night here if you don't make haste. Are you cold, Grace?'
'No; I'm not cold. I'm thinking what they are doing now in the church at Hogglestock.'
'The Hogglestock church is not pretty, like this?'
'Oh, no. It is a very plain brick building, with something like a pigeon-house for a belfry. And the pulpit is over the reading-desk, and the reading-desk over the clerk, so that papa, when he preaches, is nearly up to the ceiling. And the whole place is divided into pews, in which the farmers hide themselves when they come to church.'
'So that nobody can see whether they go to sleep or not. Oh, Mrs Giles, you mustn't pull that down. That's what we have been putting up all day.'
'But it be in the way, miss; so that minister can't budge in or out o' the door.'
'Never mind. Then he must stay one side or the other. That would be too much after all our trouble!' And Miss Dale hurried across the chancel to save some pretty arching boughs, which, in the judgment of Mrs Giles, encroached too much on the vestry door. 'As if it signified which side he was,' she said in a whisper to Grace.
'I don't suppose they'll have anything in the church at home.'
'Somebody will stick up a wreath or two, I daresay.'