"You are a witch, Dolly, to dare turn prophetess in this fashion; but I have a notion you are right, so we will do our part, and wait for the rest."
And, blended with the daily petitions at family prayer, thenceforth went up one for the success and blessing of the work, and the provision of a wise godly minister of Christ's gospel to shepherd the flock at Pine-wood End, and take charge of the little chapel-of-ease to the Parish Church of Falcon Range.
Mr. Spadeley had misgivings as to whether it would be real worship in a building without aged pillars, and pointed arches, and many-coloured glass, and especially without the mouldering dust of the hamlet's "rude forefathers" begetting solemn thoughts of death and decay; but as all great occasions would rally the people round the old mother-church, and he himself was undisputed monarch of the parish graveyard, it did not seem that any great diminution of his importance would accrue from a small unpretending neighbour like the little chapel at Pine-wood End.
So Mr. Spadeley condescendingly took the affair under his patronage, declared himself as ready as ever to bury the whole parish on the same terms as before, and exhorting all who should be favoured with his services to select their epitaphs in proper time, sagaciously opining that the new educational advantages to be afforded at Pine-wood End would greatly facilitate their choice on a subject so important to posterity.
As the new buildings rose before the delighted eyes of the village seniors, the juvenile population began to be painfully aware of some conspiracy against their liberties, and to indicate resolutions of non-submission to any schoolmaster or schoolmistress who might be enthroned behind any formidable desk on earth.
Of the little old mistress of the village dame-school in her rocking-chair by the fire-side, no one had ever professed to stand in awe; her rods soon dwindled to a single twig whenever she set up one, the hard words in her "Reading-made-easy" got mysteriously blotted, or punched out, or the books were strangely missing.
And she, poor old lady, declared her firm belief that "the world was near its end, for never rose the sun upon such a race of little villains since the days before the flood." For her part, "how it came to pass that such critters were allowed to live, was beyond her understanding altogether," and if she had been arbitress of human destiny, they must have gone the way of water rats, field mice, and black beetles before the just indignation of their superiors, resolved to be rid of such like pests. Mentally she daily transported a room full to Botany Bay, having some dim idea of that interesting locality as a sort of reservoir of rubbish whereby this planet was relieved of objectionable populations.
But in the new schools, the advent of some very different kind of personage was apprehended, and more than once, stones had been projected through the apertures where windows were to be, in anticipation of the treatment that any head might suffer, bold enough to think of ruling the pinafore spirits of Pine-wood End.
Rumours got afloat, however, that the ladies of Falcon Range had a teacher under training for this post of danger, and the creaking old sign of "The Falconer's Arms" warned trustworthy Joe that he might be found to have some interest in the matter, and sent him on an errand of remonstrance to the clerk and sexton of the parish, whose business it was to see to the well-being and safety of the house of Spadeley.
