“Of course,” said Madeleine, “the cure of souls is the same responsibility whether it concerns the well-to-do or the poor. What is the name of the fishing village?”
“Scaling Harbour. The people are supposed to be partly of Spanish descent,” said her brother, “and they look like it.”
“Is there no church, then, or mission-room, or anything?” inquired Madeleine.
Horace shook his head.
“Certainly no church; and mission-rooms don’t seem to have found their way up here. The parson at Craig Bay should look after it, I suppose! He is certainly not overburdened with money, though.”
“And whom does the place belong to?” asked his sister.
“Partly to Ryder,” Horace replied, as if rather tired of the subject. “You can tackle him about it—you generally have a crow of some kind or other to pick with him, it seems to me.”
Madeleine flushed a little.
“Don’t say that,” she began. “To tell you the truth, I fear I have already annoyed him rather about his ‘absenteeism’ as regards this place.”
Horace laughed.