The agitation was instantaneous.
"To Calvary!" exclaimed mother and son in one breath.
"Why?" It was Gordon who demanded. "A—a special occasion there—a bishop or something?"
"I'm afraid you must ask him," she said.
She was delayed on the steps, first by Nan Ferguson, then by the
Laureston Greys, and her news outdistanced her to the porch. Charlotte
Plimpton looking very red and solid, her eyes glittering with excitement,
blocked her way.
"Alison?" she cried, in the slightly nasal voice that was a Gore inheritance, "I'm told your father's gone to Calvary! Has Mr. Hodder offended him? I heard rumours—Wallis seems to be afraid that something has happened."
"He hasn't said anything about it to me, Charlotte," said Alison, in quiet amusement, "but then he wouldn't, you know. I don't live here any longer, and he has no reason to think that I would be interested in church matters."
"But—why did you come?" Charlotte demanded, with Gore naivete.
Alison smiled.
"You mean—what was my motive?"