It was a day of blistering heat.  The river lay still as a lagoon, and the dusty red roads of the town blazed like a furnace.  Before I had got to the church door I was in a great sweat, and stopped in the porch to fan myself.  Inside ’twas cool enough, with a pleasant smell from the cedar pews, but there was such a press of a congregation that many were left standing.  I had a good place just below the choir, where I saw the Governor’s carved chair, with the Governor’s self before it on his kneeling-cushion making pretence to pray.  Round the choir rail and below the pulpit clustered many young exquisites, for this was a sovereign place from which to show off their finery.  I could not get a sight of Elspeth.

Doctor Blair preached us a fine sermon from the text, “My people shall dwell in a pleasant habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting-places!" But his hearers were much disturbed by the continual chatter of the fools about the choir rail.  Before he had got to the Prayer of Chrysostom the exquisites were whispering like pigeons in a dovecot, exchanging snuff-boxes, and ogling the women.  So intolerable it grew that the Doctor paused in his discourse and sternly rebuked them, speaking of the laughter of fools which is as the crackling of thorns under a pot.  This silenced them for a little, but the noise broke out during the last prayer, and with the final word of the Benediction my gentlemen thrust their way through the congregation, that they might be the first at the church door.  I have never seen so unseemly a sight, and for a moment I thought that Governor Nicholson would call the halberdiers and set them in the pillory.  He refrained, though his face was dark with wrath, and I judged that there would be some hard words said before the matter was finished.

I must tell you that during the last week I had been coming more into favour with the prosperous families of the colony.  Some one may have spoken well of me, perhaps the Doctor, or they may have seen the justice of my way of trading.  Anyhow, I had a civil greeting from several of the planters, and a bow from their dames.  But no sooner was I in the porch than I saw that trouble was afoot with the young bloods.  They were drawn up on both sides the path, bent on quizzing me.  I sternly resolved to keep my temper, but I foresaw that it would not be easy.

“Behold the shopman in his Sunday best,” said one.

“I thought that Sawney wore bare knees on his dirty hills,” said another.

One pointed to my buckles.  “Pinchbeck out of the store,” he says.

“Ho, ho, such finery!” cried another.  “See how he struts like a gamecock.”

“There’s much ado when beggars ride,” said a third, quoting the proverb.

It was all so pitifully childish that it failed to provoke me.  I marched down the path with a smile on my face, which succeeded in angering them.  One young fool, a Norton from Malreward, would have hustled me, but I saw Mr. Grey hold him back.  “No brawling here, Austin,” said my rival.