Miss Blake took the way to St. Jerome's Church, a very choice bouquet of hothouse flowers in her hand. Glancing at the gate of the Maze--in regard to which place her interest had not in the least abated--she bore onwards, and soon joined some groups of ladies, who were advancing to St. Jerome's by the more direct route from the village. They had appointed to meet that afternoon and put the finishing touches to the room ere it should be seen by its pastor-- if indeed any touches remained to be done. A matter such as this could not but have excited much comment at Foxwood ever since the first day that Miss Blake took it in hand. Prudent mothers, full of occupation themselves, warned their daughters against being "led away." The daughters, whose hands were idle, rushed to the new attraction, stealthily at first, openly afterwards. They grew to be as energetic as Miss Blake herself, and were in a fervour of eagerness for the arrival of Mr. Cattacomb.
Miss Blake opened the door and allowed the rest to file in. She stayed looking at something that did not please her--a wheel-barrow full of earth lodging right against St. Jerome's outside walls.
"I should not wonder but it's that Tom Pepp who has left it there!" said Miss Blake severely. "The boy is for ever dodging about here--and brings other boys in his train. When Mr. Cattacomb----"
"Good afternoon, madam!"
Miss Blake turned at the address, and recognized Mr. Smith--his green spectacles on and his arm in a sling as usual. She had seen him once or twice since that first meeting, but he had only bowed in passing.
"May I be permitted to enter?" he asked, waving his hand at the church door.
"Oh, certainly," she replied. "Indeed I hope you will become one of St. Jerome's constant worshippers." So he went in with the crowd of ladies.
It certainly looked a sweet little place--as Jane St. Henry remarked aloud. Candles, flowers, crosses, scrolls--for Miss Blake knew exactly what would please Mr. Cattacomb. The common whitewashed walls were nearly hidden: mottoes, a painting or two, and prints lay thickly on them, all of course of a sacred character. The plain, straw-seated chairs stood pretty thickly. The other arrangements were as good as funds, time, and space had allowed. Leading off on one side at the upper end, was a small vestry; with a sort of corner box in it that was to serve as a confessional. This vestry--which used to be the place where The school children put their hats and bonnets--had an objectionable, modern window in it; before which was hung a blind of printed calico, securing the vestry's privacy from sun and gazers.
Mr. Smith might have been a travelled man, but in all his travels he had seen no place of worship like unto this. He was saying so to himself as he turned and gazed about through his green glasses. He took them off and gazed again.
"Is it not charming, sir?" asked Jane St. Henry.