young people," said Mrs
Hankworth, steering away from "experiences." "There's my big lad
William! He'll follow him round from place to place till he's out of
walking distance. 'What do you do it for, William?' I says to him, and
he stands on one leg and then on the other, and says 'I don't know,' he
says. 'I like hearing him,' he says. He's a great attraction for him."

"I hope there'll be a good meeting," said Anne, rising to go. "Don't you
get up. It's been a great relief to me to have a chat with you."

"I'll go down myself and have a look at Jane," said Mrs Hankworth.
"Perhaps in a week or so she'll have got a bit used to her position, and
see that she can't go on like that long."

"It'll be a real work of charity," said Anne earnestly. "Young people
think a lot of married women. She thinks, you know, that I'm an old maid
and don't know anything about it."

"Well, I'll go," said Mrs Hankworth, gratified. "Good morning, then. We
shall see you at the meeting."

"God willing," replied Anne, and turned to go, comforted by the
confidence and ample views of this well-to-do woman.

CHAPTER XVI

The little grey chapel at the corner of two roads was lighted and
already hot with steam on the windows. The wooden pews, set on steps
which rose evenly to the window-sill at the back of the tiny building,
seemed to precipitate themselves upon the mean wooden pulpit. Three
benches set endwise to the platform served for the choir, and there was
a small harmonium. The girl (a daughter of a prosperous farmer) who
played it was already in her place, and a group of children had taken
possession of the front pew. These were playing under the book-rest and
frequent giggles burst from their number. At last one of them threw a
hat so much too high that it dropped into the next pew, and a
preter-natural silence fell upon the group, who all wriggled themselves
erect on their seats and looked apprehensively round. The girl at the
harmonium bent back to look at the clock and then pulled out her stops
and began to play. The door clicked, and burst open to admit a cold
breeze and a big farm boy in his Sunday clothes, whose head and
shoulders came in before the rest of him was ready to follow, and who
held on to the door as he entered as if for protection. Every child
turned its head and watched him while he ducked his head on to the
book-board for a second, and then sat upright, adjusting his neck into
his collar. The farmer, whose