Mrs. Wilfrid, clad in mourning, followed by her three children, was ushered by the verger into one of the very best seats, for the old man realized at a glance that the stately-looking woman was "one of the quality."
She was not above the feeling of curiosity herself, and when Mrs. Gilbert Rose and her family took their place in close proximity to the pulpit, she immediately recognized in the widow's sweet, worn features the woman whom she had last met as a happy bride.
She could not see the lads' faces, as they were hidden by a massive pillar, but little Elsie, who was sitting close beside her mother, looked so sweet and winsome, that despite herself, Mrs. Wilfrid's heart went out to the child.
To Gwennie's delight, from her seat beside her two brothers, she could occasionally get a peep at Ronnie, but whether from shyness, or because he thought he had already been too friendly, he refused to meet the blue eyes which he felt instinctively were gazing at him.
Only once did he glance at his little cousin, but at this moment her eyes were fixed upon the clergyman with intense interest, for the text he had just given out were these few words:
"Love your enemies."
During the sermon heavy clouds gathered, and ere the words of the benediction were uttered, the rain descended in a drenching shower.
Mrs. Wilfrid, in her widow's weeds, felt sadly the lack of an umbrella, and whilst waiting in the porch, bade her son Reginald run home to York House—which was but a short distance—to fetch her one.
His answer was audible to those around.
"It won't hurt your bonnet, mother, more than it will hurt me," he said in a grumbling voice.