He pointed with his staff to the end of the lane before them. Lo and behold! another, an opposition, procession was there entering, headed also by men in black, and followed also, as they could now hear, by music.
"Is it our double?" asked Shirley, "our manifold wraith? Here is a card turned up."
"If you wanted a battle, you are likely to get one—at least of looks," whispered Caroline, laughing.
"They shall not pass us!" cried the curates unanimously; "we'll not give way!"
"Give way!" retorted Helstone sternly, turning round; "who talks of giving way? You, boys, mind what you are about. The ladies, I know, will be firm. I can trust them. There is not a churchwoman here but will stand her ground against these folks, for the honour of the Establishment.—What does Miss Keeldar say?"
"She asks what is it."
"The Dissenting and Methodist schools, the Baptists, Independents, and Wesleyans, joined in unholy alliance, and turning purposely into this lane with the intention of obstructing our march and driving us back."
"Bad manners!" said Shirley, "and I hate bad manners. Of course, they must have a lesson."
"A lesson in politeness," suggested Mr. Hall, who was ever for peace; "not an example of rudeness."
Old Helstone moved on. Quickening his step, he marched some yards in advance of his company. He had nearly reached the other sable leaders, when he who appeared to act as the hostile commander-in-chief—a large, greasy man, with black hair combed flat on his forehead—called a halt. The procession paused. He drew forth a hymn book, gave out a verse, set a tune, and they all struck up the most dolorous of canticles.