ough the maze of
many-hued petticoats which, as the girls knelt, stood all round them
like huge bells, with their slim shoulders and small heads above looking
for all the world like the handles.

The children were all placed in the chancel to right and left of the
altar, solemn and well-behaved, with one eye on the schoolmistress and
the other on the Pater.

After the service the order of procession was formed, inside the church:
the children in the forefront with banner carried by the head of the
school--a sturdy maiden on the fringe of her teens, very proud to carry
the Blessed Virgin's banner. She squared her shoulders well, for the
banner was heavy, and the line of her young hips--well accentuated by
the numerous petticoats which a proud mother had tied round her
waist--gave a certain dignity to her carriage and natural grace to her
movements.

Behind the children came the young girls--those of a marriageable age
whom a pious custom dedicates most specially to the service of Our Lady.
Their banner was of blue silk, and most of them were dressed in blue,
whilst blue ribbons fluttered round their heads as they walked.

Then came Pater Bonifacius under a velvet-covered dais which was carried
by four village lads. He wore his vestments and carried a holy relic in
his hands; the choir-boys swinging their metal censers were in front of
him in well-worn red cassocks and surplices beautifully ironed and
starched for the occasion.

In the rear the crowd rapidly closed in; the younger men had a banner to
themselves, and there were the young matrons, the mothers, the fathers,
the old and the lonely.

The sexton threw open the doors, and slowly the little procession filed
out. Outside a brilliant sunshine struck full on the whitewashed walls
of the little schoolhouse opposite. It was so dazzling that it made
everybody blink as they stepped out from the semi-dark church into this
magnificent flood of light.

In the street round the church a pathetic group awaited the appearance
of the procession, those that were too old to walk two kilometres to the
shrine, those who were lame and those who were sick. Simply and with
uninquiring minds, they knelt or stood in the roadway, content to watch
the banners as they swung gaily to the rhythmic movements of the
bearers, content to see the holy relics in the Pater's hand, content to
feel that subtle wave of religious sentiment pass over them which made
them at peace with their lit