experienced before--a
disturbance both urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to
play little part. He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness,
amazed to learn how pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very
young and brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was
(he thought) quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also
completely devoted to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays.
She was a volatile creature, full of mischievous surprise: at their
first music practice, after playing over some hymns on the pipe-organ,
she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the clamorous syncope
of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer.

So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends
he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the
situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility
of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite
what he had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an
enchanting companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself
for a pair of riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have
them made as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously,
though he felt it better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he
went there every day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if
they knew, so he used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he
would slip away to the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy
sweeping the chapel floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork,
rearranging the hymnals in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to
leave a bottle of milk and some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate
every morning, so he had a cheerful and stealthy little lunch in
the vestry-room, though always a trifle nervous lest some of his
parishioners should discover him.

He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and
discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished
it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able
to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with
emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation,
enjoyed the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock,
who had previously relished taking part in the general routine of the
service, were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insi