She did not go to church that first Sunday, but played with Wiggins on the beach all the morning. Mrs. Urquhart was scandalized and suggested the Episcopalian church at Pittenweem; but Mary only put her arms round her old nurse and laughingly promised to come and sit in her pew next Sunday.
The minister progressed in his friendship with Wiggins; while Mary was scouring the country on her bicycle, Wiggins and his new friend played on the beach or fished for poddlies from the rocks.
Madeleine with the inevitable crochet sat on the beach and beamed at them.
“You’re a Presbyterian, aren’t you?” asked Wiggins abruptly of the minister one afternoon.
“Yes, I’m a member of the Free Kirk.”
“Oh, you’re Free Kirk, and Madeleine’s a Roman Catholic, and mother and me is Pagans!”
“Pagans?” echoed the minister in astonished tones.
“Well, mother says so. It means that you love the sun, and the sea, and bare feet and meringues and music-halls and things!”
“Pagans, music-halls!” The minister gazed in horror at the unconscious but breathless Wiggins. “Do you mean to say,” he asked solemnly, “that you do not know anything about our Saviour who died for us?”
Wiggins turned and looked at him with something of reproachful scorn on his broad freckled face; then he said slowly: “Of course, I know, but we never talk about that to strangers, mother and me. It is bad form, like the people who give you tracts in busses.”