ept where one fragment of what is technically known as "ruby" bore
witness that there had once been a stained window there. There were
dirty calico blinds to do duty for stained glass in moderating the
light; dirt, long gathered, had blunted the sharpness of the tracery
on the old carved stalls in the chancel, where the wood-worms of
several generations had eaten fresh patterns of their own, and the
squat, solemn little carved figures seemed to moulder under one's
eyes. In the body of the church were high pews painted white, and four
or five old tombs with life-size recumbent figures fitted in oddly
with these, and a skimpy looking prayer-desk, pulpit, and font, which
were squeezed together between the half-rotten screen and a stone
knight in armour.

"Pretty tidy," said our churchwarden, tapping of the pews with a
patronising finger; "but bless and save us, Mr. Andrewes, sir, the
walls be disgraceful dirty, and ten shillings' worth of lime and
labour would make 'em as white as the driven snow. The sexton says
there be a rate, and if so, why don't they whitewash and paint a bit,
and get rid of them rotten old seats, and make things a bit decent?
You don't find a many places to beat Dacrefield, sir, go as far as you
will," he added complacently, and with an air of having exhausted
experience in the matter of country churches.

"Them old figures," he went on, "they puts me in mind of one my father
used to tell us about, that was in Dacrefield Church. A man with a
kind of cap on his face, and his feet crossed, and very pointed toes,
and a sword by his side."

"At Dacrefield?" cried Mr. Andrewes; "surely there isn't a Templar at
Dacrefield?"

"It were in the old church that came down," continued the
churchwarden, "in the old Squire's time. There was a deal of ancient
rubbish cleared out then, sir, I've heard, and laid in the stackyard
at the Hall. It were when my father were employed as mason under
'brick and mortar Benson,' as they called him, for repairs of a wall,
and they were short of stones, and they chipped up the figure I be
telling you of. My father allus said he knowed the head was put in
whole, and many's the time I've looked for it when a boy."

I think Mr. Andrewes could endure the churchwarden's tale of former
destructiveness no longer, and he abruptly called us to come away. I
was just running to join the rest at the door, when my eye fell upon
a modern tablet of marble above a large cushioned pew. Like