"Why does she not go to church?" I asked.
"Because she is a Presbyterian, child."
I was not much the wiser because I did not know what a Presbyterian was at that time. Afterward I found out that Elsie was a member of the National Church or Kirk as they call it of Scotland, who have a great dislike to Episcopacy—no great wonder either. I am not fond of plum pudding, but if any one were to try to drive it down my throat with a bayonet, I think I should like it still less.
In the afternoon the wagon arrived with our luggage and all Mrs. Deborah's purchases, including the harpsichord, which was set up in the little red parlor, and proved to have borne the journey very well. A part of the next day was spent in unpacking our various possessions and setting them in order.
We found that Mrs. Thorpe had prepared a pleasant surprise for us by adding to our small library a number of volumes, among which were "Sir Charles Grandison," and Clarissa Harlowe and Mr. Law's "Serious Call." There was a glass-cupboard in the room, which already contained a number of volumes, mostly books of devotion of the age and style of "The Whole Duty of Man" and "The Practice of Piety." There were also a Shakespeare, a copy of Spenser, and one of the "Arcadia" of Sir Philip Sidney. I should have mentioned the library in my survey of the house. It was rather a gloomy room containing some hundred or two of volumes in presses, mostly old chronicles, books of Roman Catholic and High Church divinity, and treatises on heraldry and hawking.
By Sunday we had begun to feel quite at home in our new quarters. We went to Church in the morning with Mrs. Deborah in the carriage all in state, with footmen behind.
The church had been a handsome one but it was partly in ruins, and only the lady chapel, or what had been such, was habitable. Small as it was, it was large enough for the congregation, which seemed quite lost among the high backed benches. There were no pews but our own and the rector's which was quite empty, he being a widower without children. Dr. Brown read Prayers. I never like much to criticise a minister but I must say that so far as our service can be spoiled, he spoiled it, mumbling and hurrying so that it was difficult to tell where he was. The lesson was the noble one for the first Sunday in Advent, but I do not believe one person in ten knew what he was reading about. There was no sermon, and nothing to take the place of it. A more lifeless, spiritless performance in the shape of divine service could not possibly be. Certainly it was a great change from St. Anne's, where even before Mr. Cheriton came over to Mr. Wesley's ways, he always gave full effect to the service and the lessons. I heard Amabel sigh more than once, and no wonder.
When we came out of church, Mrs. Deborah invited Doctor Brown to dine with us. He excused himself on the ground of having to hold afternoon service at his other church, five miles off, but said he would do himself the honor to call in the course of the week, as he had a great piece of news to communicate.
There was a great bobbing of curtsies and pulling of forelocks as we came out of church, and Mrs. Deborah spoke to several of the older people particularly, inquiring about their health and that of their families, and promising to come and see several sick people.
"Parson be going away, I hears!" said Richard, as he helped his mistress into the coach. "John Footman told me he has got great preferment about Durham, some gate. They say as the gentleman which was to be curate is to have the living when Doctor Brown goes."