“Yes, Mrs. Germain.” A young, fresh, confident voice.
“Surely, it is not time?”
“Tea was to be at four, Mrs. Germain.”
“Oh. Well, the Rector is busy with his lordship and cannot be disturbed. Tea must not begin until he can say Grace.”
“Very well, Mrs. Germain. But Mr. Soames——”
“No doubt. But I don’t wish Mr. Soames to say Grace.” This was explained to Mrs. Bingham. “Mr. Soames is a most worthy young man—we are fortunate in him. But he knows only two forms of Grace—Benedictus benedicat, which is of course, absurd, and For these and all Thy mercies.”
“Oh,” said Lady Cantacute, “and won’t that do?”
Mrs. James looked to the tree-tops. “We think that village children should be taught to expect other things besides mercies. James always says For what we are about to receive, which of course might be anything.”
“I suppose it might, poor things,” said Lady Cantacute, comfortably; and Mrs. Bingham whispered, “So sensible!” to her eldest daughter.
“Besides, the Rector is the proper person on such a day. See to it, if you please, Mary.”