several modern statesmen were allotted prototypes in Israel. The
mean Staffordshire accent destroyed whatever beauty was left to his
maimed excerpts from Holy Scripture.

"What a terrible man!" whispered Jenny to May.

Presently during the extempore prayers, when the congregation took up
the more comfortable attitude of prayer by bending towards their laps,
Jenny perceived that the eyes of each person were surreptitiously fixed
on her. She could see the prying sparkle through coarse fingers--a
sparkle that was instantly quenched when she faced it. Jenny prodded
May.

"Come on," she whispered fiercely. "I'm going out of this dog's island."

May looked alarmed by the prospect of so conspicuous an exit, but
loyally followed Jenny as they picked their way over what seemed from
their upright position a jumble of corpses. An official, either more
indomitably curious or less anxiously self-repressive than the majority,
hurried after them.

"Feeling slight, are 'ee, missus?" inquired this red-headed farmer.

"No, thanks," said Jenny.

"It do get very hot with that stove come May month. I believe it ought
to be put out. And you're not feeling slight?"

"No, thanks."

The man seemed unwilling to go back inside the chapel; but the two girls
walked quickly away from him down through the deserted village.

After dinner the incident was discussed with some bitterness.

"How did 'ee go out of chapel like that?" asked Trewhella.

"Because I don't go to a chapel or a church neither to be stared at.
It's a game of mine played slow, being stared at by a lot of old crows
like them in there."

Jenny defiantly surveyed Zachary, his mother and old Mr. Champion, while
May murmured encouragement behind her.

"'Tisn't paying any great respect to the dear Lord," said Trewhella.
"Trooping out like a lot of great bullocks! I went so hot as lead."

"'Tisn't paying any great respect to the dear Lord, staring at two women
when you belong praying," said Granfa severely.

"Darn 'ee," said Trewhella savagely. "'Tis nothing to do with you, a
heathen old man as was once seen picking wrinkles off the rocks on a
Sunday morning."

"I believe it is then," said Granfa stoutly. "I believe that it's got a
brae lot to do with me and, darn 'ee, if it hasn't----"

He thumped the table so that all the crockery rattled. This roused Mrs.
Trewhella, who had been blinking in silence.

"Look, see what you're doing, Granfa. You'll scat all the cloam