'I must try it,' she whispered; 'do blow for me, one of you!'
Gwen complied with her request immediately, and strains of Mendelssohn and Handel were soon filling the church. Clare was wandering dreamily round listening and enjoying it, when suddenly a harsh voice behind her startled her.
'And may I ask who has given you permission to touch the organ?'
'I am not touching it,' Clare responded, coolly, gazing in astonishment at the apparition before her.
An old lady with a cap awry on her head, green spectacles, and a large shawl flung round her, stood tapping the ground impatiently with a walking-stick.
'I don't wish to meet with impertinence; your party are taking an unwarrantable liberty. I wish, if my brother persists in keeping the church doors open, that he would keep a chained bulldog inside! Nothing else will keep you tourists in your place. And here am I without a bonnet, defying St. Paul's command, and getting a fresh attack of rheumatism, and perhaps palpitation of the heart, by my haste and exposure! Will you have the goodness to tell your friends to leave that organ alone?'
Elfie, hearing voices, now turned round and left her seat at once.
Clare was not trying to soothe the old lady, but rather seemed to enjoy her irascibility.
'No, madam, we are not tourists. Are you the verger's wife? You must excuse my ignorance, but we are strangers in this part. Perhaps you can tell us a little about the church; it seems a very old one. How many years has it been standing?'
For answer the old lady raised her stick and tapped her slightly on the shoulder with it.