“Of course everything is very strange and new to you at first; but er—er, you will soon feel quite at home with us, I hope.”
“Indeed, I hope so,” said Hazel earnestly. “The time has been so short as yet.”
“Yes—of course—so very short,” replied the vicar. “My sisters will call to-morrow, I have no doubt and see Mrs Thorne. I shall be down at the school in the afternoon. You saw Miss Burge, of course, this morning?”
“Oh yes. Miss Burge walked up to church with me.”
“And Mr William Forth Burge too, if I mistake not. Most admirable people, Miss Thorne. Great patrons of our schools. I trust that you will—er—er—try to—er—that is, endeavour to meet them in little matters, connected with the management of the children.”
“You may rely upon my trying to thoroughly fulfil my duties, Mr Lambent,” said Hazel quietly.
“Of course—to be sure, Miss Thorne, no doubt,” he said hastily; and as he spoke he wondered at himself more and more; “but I must not detain you, Miss Thorne. Er—allow me one moment, the curtain is rather awkward to one unaccustomed to the place.”
And, to the astonishment—the utter astonishment—of his sisters, who were standing as stiffly in the chancel as if they were a couple of monumental effigies, the Reverend Henry Lambent opened the door, passed out first, and then stood holding the curtain aside for Hazel to pass, which she did, bowing gravely and with quiet dignity to the two ladies before gliding along the nave and out of the door.
Neither of the sisters spoke, but stood, like the vicar, watching the new mistress leave the church.
At last Miss Beatrice turned.