He
was in the Argus at Portsmouth two years ago;'--and then, as our
little sister continued her indignant exclamations, he added, 'Hush!
Don't on any account say a word about it. I had better get back to
my work. I am only doing you harm by staying here.'
At which Emily shed tears, and together we persuaded him not to
curtail his holiday, which, indeed, he could not have done without
assigning the reason to the elders, and this was out of the
question. Nor did he venture to hang back when, as our service was
to be on Sunday afternoon, my father proposed to walk to Hillside
Church in the morning. They came back well pleased. There was care
and decency throughout. The psalms were sung to a 'grinder organ'--
which was an advanced state of things in those days--and very
nicely. Parson Frank read well and impressively, and the old
parson, a fine venerable man, had preached an excellent sermon--
really admirable, as my father repeated. Our party had been
scarcely in time, and had been disposed of in seats close to the
door, where Clarence was quite out of sight of the disdainful young
lady and her squire, of whom Emily begged to hear no more.
She looked askance at the cards left on the hall table the next day-
-'The Rev. Christopher Fordyce,' and 'The Rev. F. C. Fordyce,' also
'Mrs. F. C. Fordyce, Hillside Rectory.'
We had found out that Hillside was a family living, and that there
was much activity there on the part of the father and son--rector
and curate; and that the other clerical folk, ladies especially, who
called on us, spoke of Mrs.
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