"You can't just play and do as you like, you know. There are Laws of the Lawn. And there are two Leagues, and you must belong to one of them."
This sounded encouraging; he was not going to stand in my way after all.
"I know," I said. "Which shall I belong to?"
"We'll see. Let me see, which are you, Church or Chapel?" He was too dull to conceal the wolf in the sheep-like blandness of his voice. Well, I would fight for my footing.
"Neither. You know that."
"Neither?" incredulously. "How do you mean?"
"I belong to the Brethren, the Saints. That's neither Church nor Chapel."
"Well then, you can't belong to the Church League or the Chapel League, can you, if you aren't either? Of course you can't. We're sorry, but you can't belong to the Lawn at all. Still" (generously) "we'll let you walk about." He dismissed me with a nod. I did not move.
"But—"
"Now shut up. No damned chatter. You should belong to a decent religion."