"A wonderful sermon, was it not?" said Mrs. Drury.
"Ye--es; but rather too dictatorial in style for such a young preacher." Mrs. Beauchamp's tones expressed dissatisfaction.
"Did you think it dictatorial?" enquired the vicar's wife pleasantly; "it did not strike me in that way. I thought it was a grand opportunity, splendidly seized. With such a varied congregation, coming as we do from all parts of England, no one but God can foresee the results that may accrue, with His blessing, from the faithful message this morning."
"Perhaps so," was Mrs. Beauchamp's somewhat absent reply; and she turned back as if to wait for the girls.
Amethyst and Elsa were close at hand, and quickly joined them, but Monica and Olive were some distance behind, walking slowly, and apparently deep in conversation. Mrs. Drury, who had not been unobservant of the effect of the sermon upon Monica, as she sat listening, listlessly at first, and then was roused into paying startled attention to the (to her) unusual discourse, tactfully drew her own child and Elsa into conversation, as they walked on. For she was sure, from the expressions on the faces of the girls behind, that they were discussing what they had been hearing.
As a matter of fact, after a few commonplaces with Marcus and Roger, the girls left them, and slowly following the others, had been silent companions for a few moments.
Then Olive, shaking off the unwelcome feelings which had taken possession of her, said gaily: "A penny for your thoughts, Monica!"
"You can have them without the penny," was her friend's rather sad reply, as she slipped her arm into Olive's. "I'm half inclined to do what he said, Ollie."
Olive raised a startled face to Monica's, and read quite a new expression upon it, in which there was a certain amount of determination. "What do you mean?" she queried; but in her own heart she knew full well what Monica meant.
"Why, to say I am willing," said Monica, with some confusion, for she felt diffident about expressing what she meant even to her greatest friend.