But the slight reserve that had come over the Canon at the mention of Mrs. Allbutt was not due to pedantry. The real reason appeared now.
“She was here, anyhow, last Sunday,” he said, “because she asked Agnes and me to dine with her in the evening. We both thought it a very odd thing to do. We declined, of course.”
“Why?” asked Hugh rather thoughtlessly. Then, so he flattered himself, he remembered. “Oh, I see, evening church!” he said.
His brother-in-law again stiffened slightly, but replied with the most scrupulous honesty.
“No, we should have had time to go after church,” he said, “had we wished. Indeed, Agnes guessed that the dinner was at the unusually late hour of half-past eight to enable us to do so. But it is against our principles to dine out Sunday.”
Canon Alington, who seldom moved about his garden without a spud in his hand, neatly extracted a dandelion from the short velvet of the lawn, and relaxed a little.
“Of course, I do not say that it is morally wrong to dine out on Sunday,” he said, “because that would be a narrow view of which, I trust, I should not be guilty. It is, of course, also quite possible that as Mrs. Allbutt has only been here so short a time she did not know our views on the subject, for I am aware that many of the clergy do not agree with me in my idea of the observance of Sunday. But let that pass. I hope Mrs. Allbutt will be an acquisition to the parish.”
“She would be an acquisition to any parish,” said Hugh. “She is quite entirely charming. During the last fortnight I have often met her at Lady Rye’s.”
Canon Alington warmed to this.
“Ah, there is an admirable woman!” he said. “She has a truly serious sense of the responsibility which wealth and position give. If Mrs. Allbutt is like her, we are indeed fortunate. And certainly Agnes is favourably impressed with her, and Agnes’s impressions are not often erroneous. She has been very handsome in the way of subscriptions already.”