The next morning, being Sunday, we went to church, and the feeling of equality with the rest of mankind which this gives one was very refreshing after the magnificence and social distinctions about which we had been learning so much during the last few days. But even in church one may notice how superior some families in Clarkham are to others. The pew-letting of the church seems to have been conducted on principles other than those recommended in Holy Writ. Richer folk—those with gold chains, for whom we learn precedence should not be accorded—occupied the front pews, furnished with red cushions and Prayer-Books with silver corners, while the humbler sort were accommodated with seats under the gallery. The Finlaysons sailed in rather late, with a rustle of their smart dresses, and kneeled to pray on very high hassocks, their elbows just touching the book-board in front of them, their faces inadequately covered with their tightly-gloved hands. The Next Doors had a pew half-way up the middle aisle. The day was hot, and the clergyman, a small devout-looking man, very earnest and really eloquent, was guilty sometimes in moments of excitement of dropping aitches. This of course may have been the result of the hot weather. It was something of a shock to notice that the little Next Doors—terrible children, of high spirits and pugnacious dispositions—were allowed to giggle unreproved at each omission of the aspirate on the part of the preacher. The Next Doors overtook us on our way out of church, and two of the pugnacious children, having dug each other with their elbows, and fought round me for permission to walk home with me and talk about the war, threw light upon their behaviour in church by remarking with smiling self-satisfaction, "Papa says we ought always to giggle when Mr. Elliot drops his aitches, to show that we know better...." Little brutes!
We spent a lazy afternoon under the brown hawthorn tree on the little lawn, and Thomas drove down to see Palestrina, and good Kate Ward put forth her very best efforts to give us a sumptuous cold supper. We found, to our surprise, that nightingales sing down here, and we sat on the lawn till quite late listening to them. Mr. and Mrs. Ward slipped their hands into one another's in the dark, and appeared to be most happy and contented.
"I am glad we came," said Palestrina that night, when Mrs. Ward had quitted the room. "Dear old Kate!"
CHAPTER XV.
On Monday I went to see Dr. Fergus about my leg, and did not get a very good report of it.
We returned from Clarkham on one of the hottest days I ever remember, and found Mrs. Fielden waiting for us in the hall.
"Every one seems to have come over to hear about your London visit," said Mrs. Fielden lightly, "for I found Mr. Ellicomb and Maud Jamieson here when I came in."
She began pouring out tea for us both as she spoke, and she signalled something to Palestrina, who replied as she stooped down to cut some cake, "Another operation—yes, four or five weeks in bed at least."
"I sent Maud and Mr. Ellicomb home together," said Mrs. Fielden, smiling. "He, poor man, is in a great state of mental perturbation, for it seems that he has heard that in South Africa pigs are fed upon arum lilies, and that so delicate is the flesh of the pork thus produced that some flower-growers in the Channel Isles are cultivating arum lilies for the purpose of feeding pigs, and to produce the same delicious pork. He was so agitated that he got up from his chair and walked up and down the room, repeating over and over again, 'Arum-fed pork! Monstrous, monstrous!' I really did not know how to comfort him, so I sent him home with Maud Jamieson, which seemed to please him very much."