k Kettles suits her best." Pennie stopped to
take breath.

"The dean was saying only the other day," remarked Miss Unity stiffly,
"that Anchor and Hope Alley is a scandal to Nearminster. A disgraceful
place to be so near the precincts."

"Does he go to see the people in it?" asked Pennie.

"The _dean_, my dear! He has other and far more important matters to
attend to. It would be most unsuitable to the dignity of his position."

"I knew Nancy was wrong," said Pennie with some triumph. "She thought
he might know Kettles' father and mother, but I was quite sure he
didn't. Does anyone go to see them?" she added.

"I have no doubt they are visited by people properly appointed for the
purpose," said Miss Unity coldly; "and you see, Pennie, if they are good
people they can come to church and enjoy all the church privileges as
well as any one else."

Pennie was silent. She could not fancy Kettles coming to church in that
battered bonnet and those big boots. What a noise she would make, and
how everyone would look at her!

"Father goes to see the bad people in Easney as well as the good ones,"
she said, more to herself than her godmother. "Lots of them never come
to church."

"Easney is quite different from a cathedral town," said Miss Unity with
dignity.

And here the conversation ended, partly because Pennie had no answer to
make to this statement, and partly because it was time to go to the
evening service. It was a special service to-night, for a sermon was to
be preached in aid of foreign missions by the Bishop of Karawayo. This
was particularly interesting to Miss Unity, and though Pennie did not
care about the bishop it was always a great pleasure to her to go to the
Cathedral.

"May we go in through the cloisters?" she asked as they crossed the
Close.

Miss Unity much preferred entering at the west door and thought the
cloisters damp, but she willingly assented, for it was difficult for her
to refuse Pennie anything.

There was something about the murky dimness of the cloisters which
filled Pennie with a sort of pleasant awe. She shivered a little as she
walked through them, not with cold, but because she fancied them
thronged with unseen presences. How many, many feet must have trod
those ancient flag-stones to have worn them into such waves and hollows.
Perhaps they still went hurrying through the cloisters, and that was
what made the air feel so thick with mystery, and why she was never