"They say that some of our churches lead to Rome, Errington, but these youngsters have been early in discovering it. I should like to go up to Rome, I think. Will you lead the way?"
So Mr. Errington obeyed, and the ladies rustled after them, taking Bumps with them. When they came out on top, two geese were being held down forcibly by a very hot and dirty little boy and girl.
"Stop your cackling, you brutes!" Jack was screaming. "I want you to stop till I come up! They're no good, Jill, if they go on like this, and they'll be flying over the tower next. What shall we do? Let us tie their legs!"
"Jack!"
Mr. Errington's tone was so sternly indignant that the boy started and let go of his goose, which flew frantically between the bishop's legs, knocked Bumps down, and finally took a header down the the belfry stairs.
"What do you mean by this? How dare you use this church for such a purpose? Isn't your garden large enough for your games?"
"We haven't got a tower," mumbled Jack.
Jill broke in eagerly. "Please Mr. Errington don't be angry. We haven't been into the church. We wouldn't think of playing games in there. We didn't think you'd mind up here, and it is a history game."
"It seems to me," said the bishop, looking at Mr. Errington with a twinkle in his eye, "that you have some scamps amongst your parishioners as well as examples. I have been hearing"—here the bishop turned to Jack and Jill—"of some good little children that I think you would do well to imitate. You might expend some of your superfluous zeal on following their example. These children are steadily putting by a tenth of all their money, and persuading many of their friends to do the same, with the object of building a mission-room in a neglected neighbourhood!"
Jack and Jill looked at the bishop with open eyes and mouth.