"Oh, Jack! But you are taller than I am now," said she, arresting his rough embrace and giving her hand to her mother. They kissed each other, and, deferring all explanations, Bessie whispered, "May I come home with you after service and spend the day?"
"Yes, yes—father will be in then. He has had to go to Mrs. Christie: Mr. Robb has been attending her lately, but the moment she is worse nothing will pacify her but seeing her old doctor."
They crossed the road to the church in a group. Mr. Phipps came up at the moment, grotesque and sharp as ever. "Cinderella!" exclaimed he, lifting his hat with ceremonious politeness. "But where is the prince?" looking round and feigning surprise.
"Oh, the prince has not come yet," said Bessie with her beautiful blush.
Mrs. Carnegie emitted a gentle sound, calling everybody to order, and they entered the church. Bessie halted at the Carnegie pew, but the children filled it, and as she knew those boys were only kept quiet during service by maternal control, she passed on to the Fairfield pew in the chancel, where Dora Meadows was already ensconced. Lady Latimer presently arrived alone: Mr. Logger had committed himself to an opinion that it was a shame to waste such a glorious morning in church, and had declined, at the last moment, to come. He preferred to criticise preachers without hearing them.
The congregation was much fuller than Bessie remembered it formerly. Beechhurst had reconciled itself to its pastor, and had found him not so very bad after all. There was no other church within easy reach, divine worship could not, with safety, be neglected altogether, and the aversion with which he was regarded did not prove invincible. It was the interest of the respectable church-people to get over it, and they had got over it, pleading in extenuation of their indulgence that, in the first place, the rector was a fixture, and in the second that his want of social tact was his misfortune rather than his fault, and a clergyman might have even worse defects than that. Lady Latimer, Admiral Parkins, Mr. Musgrave, and Miss Wort had supported him in his office from the first, and now Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie did not systematically absent themselves from his religious ministrations.
The programme of the service, so to speak, was also considerably enlarged since Bessie Fairfax went away. There was a nice-looking curate whom she recollected as one of the rector's private pupils—Mr. Duffer. There were twelve men and boys in white raiment, and Miss Buff, presiding at the new organ with more than her ancient courage, executed ambitious music that caused strangers and visitors to look up at the loft and inquire who the organist was. Players and singers were not always agreed, but no one could say otherwise than that, for a country church, the performance was truly remarkable; and in the Hampton Chronicle, when an account was given of special services, gratifying mention was invariably made of Miss Buff as having presided at the organ with her usual ability. Bessie hardly knew whether to laugh or cry as she listened. Lady Latimer wore a countenance of ineffable patience. She had fought the ground inch by inch with the choral party in the congregation, and inch by inch had lost it. The responses went first, then the psalms, and this prolonged the service so seriously that twice she walked out of the church during the pause before sermon; but being pastorally condoled with on the infirmities inseparable from years which prevented her sitting through the discourse, she warmly denied the existence of any such infirmities, and the following Sunday she stayed to the end. For the latest innovation Beechhurst was indebted to the young curate, who had a round full voice. He would intone the prayers. By this time my lady was tired of clerical vanities, and only remarked, with a little disdain in her voice, that Mr. Duffer's proper place was Whitchester Cathedral.
When service was over Bessie whispered to her hostess the engagement she had made for herself during the rest of the day. My lady gloomed for an instant, and then assented, but Bessie ought to have asked her leave. The two elder boys were waiting at the church-door as Bessie came out, and snatched each a daintily gloved hand to conduct her home.
"Mother has gone on first to warn father," Jack announced; and missing other friends—the Musgraves, Mittens, and Semples, to wit—she allowed herself to be led in triumph across the road and up the garden-walk, the garden gay as ever with late-blooming roses and as fragrant of mignonette.
When she reached the porch she was all trembling. There was her mother, rather flushed, with her bonnet-strings untied, and her father appearing from the dining-parlor, where the table was spread for the family dinner, just as of old.