'It may be ugly,' retorted the humourist, 'but it is clean.'
'Here they are!' from the gallery.
'Make way!' shouted Mrs. De Witt, battering about her with her umbrella. 'How are people to get married if you stuff up the door, as though caulking a leak?'
She drove her way in.
'Now, then,' said she, 'come on, Mistress Sharland. Dear soul alive! how unmannerly these Virley people are! They want some of us from Mersea to come and teach them manners. Now, then, young Spat!' she shouted to a great boy in a fishing guernsey, 'do you want your head combing? Do you see what you have done to my best silk gown? What do you mean coming to a house of worship in mud-splashers?[1] Are you come here after winkles?'
[1] Wooden paddles, worn by those who go out 'winkling' in the mud, to prevent their sinking.
'I ain't got my splashers on,' said the boy.
'Then you have feet as big and as dirty as paddles. You have trodden on my best silk and took it out at the gathers.' Then, turning and looking through the door behind her, she waved her umbrella with a proud flourish. 'Come on, hearties! I've cleared the way.'
She put her shoulder to the crowd and wedged her way further ahead. 'Ah!' she said, 'here are a lot of sniggering girls. If all was known what ought to be known some of you ought to be getting married to-day. Leave off your laughing up there!' gesticulating towards the boys in the loft. 'Don't you know yet how to behave in a place of worship? I have a great mind to draw my Pandora up at Virley hard and settle here and teach you.'
Mehalah came in, pale, with sunken eyes, that burned with feverish brightness. A hectic flush dyed her cheeks. Her lips were set and did not tremble.