“There is no name by which you call yourselves?” she asked.
“None,” he answered.
“And your headquarters are where?” she asked.
“In Gloucestershire,” he answered—“so far as we can be said to have any headquarters at all.”
“You have no churches then?” she asked.
“Any building,” he answered, “where the people are to whom we desire to speak, is our church. We look upon ourselves as missioners only.”
“I am afraid,” Wilhelmina said quietly, “that I am only wasting your time in asking these questions. Still, I should like to know what induced you to choose my village as an appropriate sphere for your labours.”
“We each took a county,” he answered. “Leicestershire fell to my lot. I selected Thorpe to begin with, because I have heard it spoken of as a model village.”
Wilhelmina’s forehead was gently wrinkled.