that elusive thing, a definition:

"In Aunt Cissy's church they climb trees and make toffee on Sundays."

After which Lady Atherley seemed glad to take them both away with her.

It was perhaps this remark that led the Canon to ask, on the way to
church--

"Is it true that Mrs. de Noel attends a dissenting chapel?"

"No," said Lady Atherley. "But I know why people say so. She lent a
field last year to the Methodists to have their camp-meeting in."

"Oh! but that is a pity," said the Canon. "A very great pity--a person
in her position encouraging dissent, especially when there is no real
occasion for it. Clara's nephew, young Littlemore, did something of the
kind last year, but then he was standing for the county; and though that
hardly justifies, it excuses, a little pandering to the multitude."

"Cissy only let them have it once," said Lady Atherley, as if making the
best of it. "And, indeed, I believe it rained so hard that day they were
not able to have the meeting after all."

Then the carriage stopped before the lych-gate, through which the
fresh-faced school children were trooping; and while the bell clanged
its last monotonous summons, we walked up between the village graves to
the old church porch that older yews overshadow, where the village lads
were loitering, as Sunday after Sunday their sleeping forefathers had
loitered before them.

We worshipped that morning in a magnificent pew to one side of the
chancel, and quite as large, from which we enjoyed a full view of clergy
and congregation. The former consisted of the Canon, Mr. Jackson,
clergyman of the parish, and a young man I had not seen before. Not a
large number had mustered to hear the Canon; the front seats were well
filled by men and women in goodly apparel, but in the pews behind and in
the side aisles there was a mere sprinkling of worshippers in the Sunday
dress of country labourers. Our supplicaitions were offered with as
little ritualistic pageantry as Mrs. Mostyn herself could have desired,
though the choir probably sang oftener and better than she would have
approved. In spite of their efforts it was as uninspiring a service as I
have ever taken part in. This was not due, as might be suspected, to
Atherley's presence, for his demeanour was irreproachable. His little
sons, delighted at having him with them, carefully found his places for
him in prayer and hymnbook, and kept watch that he did not lose them
afterwards, so that he perforc