"Yes, that's it," said Jenny, with a nod of recollection.
Everybody approved of Ivydene for the suggested purpose, and the Committee broke up with the usual expressions of gratitude to and admiration of Miss Driver. "She does things so handsomely—and with such head, too!" said Bindlecombe.
I walked away with Alison, the Rector, for whom I had a great liking. He was a fine fellow, physically and mentally—a tall, strong-built man of forty, with a keen blue eye. He had "done wonders," as they say, in Catsford and was on the sure road to promotion—if he would take it. He was sincere, pious, and humble; but his humility was personal. It did not extend to his office or to the claims of the Church he represented.
He asked me if I would lay before Jenny the merits of a fund he was raising to build yet another new district church, to meet the ever growing needs of Catsford. I replied that I had no doubt she would be glad to give a donation.
"So far, so good," said Alison—but his tone did not sound contented.
"She's sure to give something substantial—she's like her father in that."
"In the way of money I had nothing to complain of from Mr. Driver. Anything else I suppose you'll tell me I couldn't expect, as he was a Unitarian."
"I remember he used to say he'd been brought up a Unitarian."
"That's what we seem to be coming to! When it's a question of a man's religion, you remember what he used to say he was brought up as!" Alison's tone became sarcastic. "Well, then, his daughter's a Church-woman, isn't she—by the same excellent evidence?"
"She lived five years in a clergyman's family," I answered discreetly—feeling that it was safer to stick to indisputable facts. "She attends church fairly often, doesn't she?"