The service was long, beginning at eleven and lasting till almost one. There was morning prayer, the Litany, the Ante-Communion service, and a long sermon preached by the rector, a charming old man called Mr. Roe, who was not, I fear, a compelling preacher.
When we went to church I was given a picture-book when I was small to read during the sermon, a book with sacred pictures in colours. I was terribly ashamed of this. I would sooner have died than be seen in the pew with this book. It was a large picture-book. So I used every Sunday to lose or hide it just before the service, and find it again afterwards. On Sunday evenings we used sometimes to sing hymns in the schoolroom. The words of the hymns were a great puzzle. For instance, in the hymn, “Thy will be done,” the following verse occurs—I punctuate it as I understood it, reading it, that is to say, according to the tune—
“Renew my will from day to day,
Blend it with Thine, and take away.
All that now makes it hard to say
Thy will be done.”
I thought the blending and the subsequent taking away of what was blent was a kind of trial of faith.
After tea, instead of being read to, we used sometimes to play a delightful round game with counters, called Le Nain Jaune.
Any number of people could play at it, and I especially remember Susan triumphantly playing the winning card and saying: