The Vicar and the organist of St. John's were on terms of friendship, though the former was elderly and the latter not middle-aged. Mr. Maloney had lived most of his life in London. He was a hard worker, and much beloved by all who knew him. But some of his acquaintances declared him lacking in ambition, for on several occasions he had declined preferment, choosing to retain the living of St. John's, which he had held for more than twenty years. He was an unmarried man, and consequently the living, though a poor one, supplied his simple needs.
He was getting an old man now, but the bright, unquenchable light of that enthusiasm which had made him a faithful labourer in Christ's vineyard all his days still shone in his earnest, deep-set eyes, and earnestness was stamped indelibly upon his countenance. And the truth was that his ambition soared far and away beyond the worldly meaning of the term: he was working for the "Well done" of the Master for Whose sake he had elected to live amongst those of little account in this world.
Mr. Pringle had been the organist of St. John's since his marriage ten years previously. He was a tall, fair man with a thoughtful face and clear blue eyes. Peggy much resembled him; whilst Billy took after his mother in appearance, being brown-haired and brown-eyed. The Pringles were a very united family, and theirs was a happy home though it was a rather poor one, and Mr. Pringle was glad to add to his salary by taking music pupils.
"I did not see the owner of the carriage," Mr. Maloney remarked by-and-by, after they had discussed Peggy's accident at some length. "Why, dear me, how stupid of me!" he exclaimed, a sudden recollection crossing his mind. "I have her card in my pocket here! She gave it to the policeman, who, in his turn, gave it to me, thinking that you might be inclined to seek redress from her for poor Peggy's injuries, I believe. Let us see who the unsympathetic old lady is."
He had produced the card by this time, and now handed it to Mrs. Pringle, who glanced at it, uttered a cry of astonishment, and grew very red.
"You know her?" Mr. Maloney inquired.
"Yes," she replied in a low tone, "I do. I can understand that she evinced no interest—though she could not have known whose child Peggy was."
She passed the card to her husband as she spoke.
A brief silence followed, during which Billy, keenly observant, noticed that his mother was trembling, and that his father's face had grown very stern.
"Who is the lady, father?" he ventured to ask at length.