“It is my duty,” said Frank, hardening himself.  “It pains me exceedingly, Willis;—­I hope I need not tell you that.”

“If I know aught of Mr. Headley’s heart by his ways, you needn’t indeed, sir.”

“But I cannot allow it.—­Her mother a class leader among these Dissenters, and one of the most active of them, too.—­The school next door to her house.  The preacher, of course, has influence there, and must have.  How am I to instil Church principles into them, if he is counteracting me the moment my back is turned?  I have made up my mind, Willis, to do nothing in a hurry.  Lady-day is past, and she must go on till Midsummer; then I shall take the school into my own hands, and teach them myself, for I can pay no mistress or master; and Mr. St. Just—­”

Frank checked himself as he was going to speak the truth; namely, that his sleepy old absentee rector, Lord Scoutbush’s uncle, would yawn and grumble at the move, and wondering why Frank “had not the sense to leave ill alone,” would give him no manner of assistance beyond his pittance of eighty pounds a-year, and five pounds at Christmas to spend on the poor.

“Excuse me, sir, I don’t doubt that you’ll do your best in teaching, as you always do:  but I tell you honestly, you’ll get no children to teach.”

“No children?”

“Their mothers know the worth of Grace too well, and the children too, sir; and they’ll go to her all the same, do what you will; and never a one will enter the church door from that day forth.”

“On their own heads be it!” said Frank, a little testily; “but I should not have fancied Miss Harvey the sort of person to set up herself in defiance of me.”

“The more reason, sir, if you’ll forgive me, for your not putting upon her.”

“I do not want to put upon her or any one.  I will do everything.  I will—­I do—­work day and night for these people, Mr. Willis.  I tell you, as I would my own father.  I don’t think I have another object on earth—­if I have, I hope I shall forget it—­than the parish:  but Church principles I must carry out.”

“Well, sir, certainly no man ever worked here as you do.  If all had been like you, sir, there would not be a Dissenter here now; but excuse me, sir, the Church is a very good thing, and I keep to mine, having served under her Majesty, and her Majesty’s forefathers, and learnt to obey orders, I hope; but don’t you think, sir, you’re taking it as the Pharisees took the Sabbath-day?”

“How then!”

“Why, as if man was made for the Church, and not the Church for man.”

“That is a shrewd thought, at least.  Where did you pick it up?”

“’Tis none of my own, sir; a bit of wisdom that my maid let fall; and it has stuck to me strangely ever since.”

“Your maid?”

“Yes, Grace there.  I always call her my maid; having no father, poor thing, she looks up to me as one, pretty much,—­the dear soul.  Oh, sir!  I hope you’ll think over this again, before you do anything.  It’s done in a day:  but years won’t undo it again.”