Somehow or other it got noised abroad in the town that Lady Valeria was coming to church the very next Sunday.
The town was much interested. There are people who speak of our town as a "village." Such people are lacking in all sense of proportion. We pity them, and try to ignore the insult.
But to return to Lady Valeria. For nearly four years we have had her in our midst. At first she was known as "the Earl's baby"; but her appearance and character were such that she speedily achieved a distinct entity, and now her doings are chronicled with extreme minuteness.
"Mammy dear! Mammy dear!" said Lady Valeria, "what does God do in church?"
Her mother looked puzzled for a moment, then she said, "He listens to our prayers, and to the psalms and hymns we sing."
"Will He speak to me, mammy dear? Will He want to kiss me?"
Most people wanted to kiss Lady Valeria; she was quite used to it.
"We cannot see God," answered the Countess gravely.
"Why, mammy dear?" asked the persistent treble voice, "what does He hide for?"
The Countess looked beseechingly at her husband, but he would not come to her assistance; he went and looked out of the window, and his shoulders shook. He gave her no help in these matters—no help at all—and, really, there never was a more inquiring child than Lady Valeria.