coming to the feast. Buns and beer circulated, meantime, amongst
the musicians and church-singers; afterwards the benches were removed,
and they were left to unbend their spirits in licensed play.

A bell summoned the teachers, patrons, and patronesses to the
schoolroom. Miss Keeldar, Miss Helstone, and many other ladies were
already there, glancing over the arrangement of their separate trays and
tables. Most of the female servants of the neighbourhood, together with
the clerks', the singers', and the musicians' wives, had been pressed
into the service of the day as waiters. Each vied with the other in
smartness and daintiness of dress, and many handsome forms were seen
amongst the younger ones. About half a score were cutting bread and
butter, another half-score supplying hot water, brought from the coppers
of the rector's kitchen. The profusion of flowers and evergreens
decorating the white walls, the show of silver teapots and bright
porcelain on the tables, the active figures, blithe faces, gay dresses
flitting about everywhere, formed altogether a refreshing and lively
spectacle. Everybody talked, not very loudly, but merrily, and the
canary birds sang shrill in their high-hung cages.

Caroline, as the rector's niece, took her place at one of the three
first tables; Mrs. Boultby and Margaret Hall officiated at the others.
At these tables the _elite_ of the company were to be entertained,
strict rules of equality not being more in fashion at Briarfield than
elsewhere. Miss Helstone removed her bonnet and scarf, that she might be
less oppressed with the heat. Her long curls, falling on her neck,
served almost in place of a veil; and for the rest, her muslin dress was
fashioned modestly as a nun's robe, enabling her thus to dispense with
the encumbrance of a shawl.

The room was filling. Mr. Hall had taken his post beside Caroline, who
now, as she rearranged the cups and spoons before her, whispered to him
in a low voice remarks on the events of the day. He looked a little
grave about what had taken place in Royd Lane, and she tried to smile
him out of his seriousness. Miss Keeldar sat near--for a wonder, neither
laughing nor talking; on the contrary, very still, and gazing round her
vigilantly. She seemed afraid lest some intruder should take a seat she
apparently wished to reserve next her own. Ever and anon she spread her
satin dress over an undue portion of the bench, or laid her gloves or
her embroidered hand