aid, she made her stand on the seat while the psalms were sung.

The morning service was in Brodnyx church--in the evening it would be at
Pedlinge. Brodnyx had so far escaped the restorer, and the pews were
huge wooden boxes, sometimes fitted with a table in the middle, while
Sir Harry Trevor's, which he never occupied, except when his sons were
at home, was further provided with a stove--all the heating there was in
the three aisles. There was also a two-decker pulpit at the east end and
over the dim little altar hung an escutcheon of Royal George--the lion
and the unicorn fighting for the crown amid much scroll-work.

Like most churches on the Marsh it was much too big for its parish, and
if the entire population of Brodnyx and Pedlinge had flocked into it,
it would not have been full. This made Joanna and Ellen all the more
conspicuous--they were alone in their great horse-box of a pew, except
for many prayer books and hassocks--There were as many hassocks in
Brodnyx church as there were sheep on the Brodnyx innings. Joanna, as
usual, behaved very devoutly, and did not look about her. She had an
immense respect for the Church, and always followed the service word for
word in her huge calf-bound prayer book, expecting Ellen to do the
same--an expectation which involved an immense amount of scuffling and
angry whispering in their pew.

However, though her eyes were on her book, she was proudly conscious
that everyone else's eyes were on her. Even the rector must have seen
her--as indeed from his elevated position on the bottom deck of the
pulpit he could scarcely help doing--and his distraction was marked by
occasional stutters and the intrusion of an evening Collect. He was a
nervous, deprecating little man, terribly scared of his flock, and
ruefully conscious of his own shortcomings and the shortcomings of his
church. Visiting priests had told him that Brodnyx church was a
disgrace, with its false stresses of pew and pulpit and the lion and the
unicorn dancing above the throne of the King of kings. They said he
ought to have it restored. They did not trouble about where the money
was to come from, but Mr. Pratt knew he could not get it out of his
congregation, who did not like to have things changed from the manner of
their fathers--indeed there had been complaints when he had dislodged
the owls that had nested under the gallery from an immemorial rector's
day.

The service came to an end with the singing of a hym