"It's such a new departure for you to take a prominent part in parish things," exclaimed Mrs. Webster.
"Oh, parish has nothing to do with it! I'm going as a disinterested spectator to see the two earnest ones fight it out."
"My dear!" remonstrated her mother in a shocked tone.
"If I have a bias it's in favour of the rector. I don't pretend to understand the merits of voluntary versus board schools; but, as you say, a clergyman is always right—most probably Mr. Curzon's is the better cause, and most certainly he is the better man."
"Dear, dear; and we shall have to dine at seven, and keep as we are, I suppose?" with a glance at the stately folds of her brocade dress.
"Yes; we won't treat a school meeting like a theatre," said May, laughing. "Will it be considered unduly flippant on my part to go in this muslin? or ought I to wear black, as at a funeral?"
"It cannot signify in the least; a change of dress would not alter your flippant mind," replied her mother, with unusual smartness. "Dear Mr. Curzon has really convinced me that it is a most important subject, so I don't mind making a sacrifice for once in a way."
"By dining an hour earlier than usual and not changing your dress! All right, mother; I'll order the carriage for ten minutes to eight. We may as well be punctual."
The back benches of the schoolroom were crowded to overflowing when May and her mother entered that evening.
"It's very hot, May. I'm not sure that I can stay," said Mrs. Webster, pausing in the doorway.