"I don't see the good of benches before the church is finished, Mr. Fuller."
"He mean to hold his services whether that's finished or not. And I mean to attend 'em," the saddler said with an air.
"But—I thought——"
"He was suspended for five year, and the bishop has given him leave to get to work directly the five year is up. That I happen to know."
"It must be nearly up now!"
"That's up next Sunday as ever is, and you'll know it when you hear the bell ring. He's got one of the old uns slung to a tree, for I helped him to sling it, and it's the first help he's had all this time. I wouldn't mention it, miss, for the reverend doesn't want a crowd; there'll be quite enough come when they hear the bell, if it's only to see what happens; but the whole neighbourhood 'll be there if that get about."
"And there's really going to be service in the church—just as it is—without a roof—this very next Sunday!"
It sounded incredible to Gwynneth, and yet it thrilled her as the incredible does not. The very drone of the saw was thrilling now.
"There is, miss, and I mean to be there," said the village Hampden, with inflated chest. "I can't help it if that cost me Sir Wilton's custom, the reverend and me are good friends again, and I mean to be there."