church, and along
it the household were making their way. The maids in feathers hurried
along guiltily by twos and threes; the butler followed slowly by
himself. A footman and a groom came next, leaving trails of pomatum in
the air. Presently General Pendyce, in a high square-topped bowler hat,
carrying a malacca cane, and Prayer-Book, appeared walking between Bee
and Norah, also carrying Prayer-Books, with fox-terriers by their sides.
Lastly, the Squire in a high hat, six or seven paces in advance of his
wife, in a small velvet toque.

The rooks had ceased their wheeling and their cawing; the five-minutes
bell, with its jerky, toneless tolling, alone broke the Sunday hush.
An old horse, not yet taken up from grass, stood motionless, resting
a hind-leg, with his face turned towards the footpath. Within the
churchyard wicket the Rector, firm and square, a low-crowned hat tilted
up on his bald forehead, was talking to a deaf old cottager. He raised
his hat and nodded to the ladies; then, leaving his remark unfinished,
disappeared within the vestry. At the organ Mrs. Barter was drawing
out stops in readiness to play her husband into church, and her eyes,
half-shining and half-anxious, were fixed intently on the vestry door.

The Squire and Mrs. Pendyce, now almost abreast, came down the aisle and
took their seats beside their daughters and the General in the first
pew on the left. It was high and cushioned. They knelt down on tall red
hassocks. Mrs. Pendyce remained over a minute buried in thought; Mr.
Pendyce rose sooner, and looking down, kicked the hassock that had been
put too near the seat. Fixing his glasses on his nose, he consulted a
worn old Bible, then rising, walked to the lectern and began to find
the Lessons. The bell ceased; a wheezing, growling noise was heard. Mrs.
Barter had begun to play; the Rector, in a white surplice, was coming
in. Mr. Pendyce, with his back turned, continued to find the Lessons.
The service began.

Through a plain glass window high up in the right-hand aisle the sun
shot a gleam athwart the Pendyces' pew. It found its last resting-place
on Mrs. Barter's face, showing her soft crumpled cheeks painfully
flushed, the lines on her forehead, and those shining eyes, eager and
anxious, travelling ever from her husband to her music and back again.
At the least fold or frown on his face the music seemed to quiver, as to
some spasm in the player's soul. In the Pendyces' pew the two girls san