‘Uncle Mark isn’t ashamed of himself, no more is Uncle Luke! They go to their meeting, and I go too. They’re United Brethren, and when I grow up, I’m to be a Brethren too!9
‘Brethren!’
This was said in a tone which clearly implied that their cup of moral delinquency, in the Rector’s eyes, was now full and overflowing. The good pastor could have endured a family which repudiated Christianity altogether, but any form of Dissent was worse even than the rankest blasphemy. It is doubtful what turn the interview would have taken, but just at this moment an unexpected diversion took place. A thin shrill voice, doubtless appertaining to one of the little girl’s late companions, suddenly pealed out, from some mysterious corner where its owner lay hidden—
‘Look out, Madlin! Here’s your Uncle Luke a-comin’!’
Madeline looked startled; then, strange to say, her face grew quite bright and eager. The Rector seemed perplexed, and uncertain what to say next. Just then the gate of the churchyard opened, and a little man, with very short legs and a very large head, looked in, and seeing Madeline, quietly entered.
‘Uncle! Uncle Luke!’
The little man nodded his head and smiled. Then, seeing the Rector, he took off his hat and grinned.
It was a peculiarity of the little man that he expressed all thoughts and moods by means of a rather mindless smile, sometimes broadening into a grin. For the rest, he had large watery eyes and a large mouth, and his general appearance was homely and awkward in the extreme.
By this time Madeline was at his side, holding his hand and looking up into his face.
The Rector strode across the churchyard.