Rebekah colored. She could not deny that they were, numerically, a feeble folk.
"We rely," she said, "on the strength of our cause—and some day—oh! some day—the world will rally round us. See, Miss Kennedy, here is father; when he has said good-by to the people"—he was talking to a lady in sealskin—"he will come and speak to us."
"I suppose," said Angela, "that this lady is a member of your chapel?"
"Yes," Rebekah whispered. "Oh, they are quite rich people—the only rich people we have. They live at Leytonstone; they made their money in the book-binding, and are consistent Christians. Father,"—for at this moment Mr. Hermitage left his rich followers in the porch—"this is Miss Kennedy, of whom you have heard so much."
Mr. Hermitage took her hand with a weary smile, and asked Rebekah if Miss Kennedy would come home with her.
They lived in a small house next door to the chapel. It was so small that there was but one sitting-room, and this was filled with books.
"Father likes to sit here," said Rebekah, "by himself all day. He is quite happy if he is let alone. Sometimes, however, he has to go to Leytonstone."
"To the rich people?"
"Yes," Rebekah looked troubled. "A minister must visit his flock, you know: and if they were to leave us it would be bad for us, because the endowment is only a hundred and ten pounds a year, and out of that the church and the house have got to be kept in repair. However, a clergyman must not be dictated to, and I tell father he should go his own way and preach his own sermons. Whatever people say, truth must not be hidden away as if we were ashamed of it! Hush! Here he is."