ent.

The fair weather lasted all through the week, and Sunday dawned in
cloudless beauty. Fair Acres did not have the services of one clergyman,
but shared the ministrations of the vicar, with another small parish.

The cracked bell began to ring in a querulous, uncertain fashion on
Sunday morning, and punctually at half-past ten Mrs. Falconer marshalled
her flock down the road to the church.

The church, though small, was architecturally a fine specimen of Early
English, and raised a noble tower to the sky; but the interior was
dilapidated, and the pillars were covered with many coats of yellow
wash, and the pews were hung with moth-eaten cloth. The squire's pew was
like a square room, with a fire-place and cushioned seats, and a high
desk for the books ran round it.

Mrs. Falconer and her husband sat facing each other on either side of
the door of the pew, and the boys were ranged round, while at the
further end Joyce sat with Mr. Arundel, a place being left for Melville.

Just as the clergyman had hurried on his very crumpled surplice, and the
band in the gallery struck up the familiar air to which the morning hymn
was sung, Melville, dressed in his best, came up the uneven pavement of
the aisle with the proud consciousness of superiority to the rest of the
world. His father threw back the door, and he passed up to the further
end of the seat, nodding carelessly to Mr. Arundel, who made no sign in
return. Chatting and making engagements for the week was at this time
very common in church. There was scant reverence shown for the house of
God. He was a God afar off, and the formal recognition of some sort of
allegiance to Him being respectable and necessary for the maintenance of
social position, brought people like Mrs. Falconer to church Sunday
after Sunday.

Mrs. Falconer and the squire, with their family, were never absent from
their places, and Mr. Watson, the squire's agent, acting as sidesman,
was also regular in his attendance.

But it was a lifeless mechanical service on the part of both minister
and people; and the loud Amens of the old clerk were the only responses
to be heard. The Psalms at the end of the book of Common Prayer were
used, accompanied by a strangely-assorted band in the worm-eaten
gallery, and two or three men and boys supplemented the scraping of the
fiddle and bassoon with singing, which might well be called bawling.

Nor was Fair Acres an isolated instance of country parish church