Beside his mother stood Gordon—more dried up, it seemed, than ever. Alison recalled him, as on this very spot, a thin, pale boy in short trousers, and Mrs. Atterbury a beautiful and controlled young matron associated with St. John's and with children's parties. She was wonderful yet, with her white hair and straight nose, her erect figure still slight. Alison knew that Mrs. Atterbury had never forgiven her for rejecting her son—or rather for being the kind of woman who could reject him.
"Surely you haven't been here all summer?"
Alison admitted it, characteristically, without explanations.
"It seems so natural to see you here at the old church, after all these years," the lady went on, and Alison was aware that Mrs. Atterbury questioned—or rather was at a loss for the motives which had led such an apostate back to the fold. "We must thank Mr. Hodder, I suppose. He's very remarkable. I hear he is resuming the services to-day for the first time since June."
Alison was inclined to read a significance into Mrs. Atterbury's glance at her son, who was clearing his throat.
"But—where is Mr. Parr?" he asked. "I understand he has come back from his cruise."
"Yes, he is back. I came without—him—-as you see."
She found a certain satisfaction in adding to the mystification, to the disquietude he betrayed by fidgeting more than usual.
"But—he always comes when he is in town. Business—I suppose—ahem!"
"No," replied Alison, dropping her bomb with cruel precision, "he has gone to Calvary."