“I wish you would not call him a minister, it sounds like a dissenter.”

“I think ministers their best name, except pastors.”

“Both are horrid alike,” said Cecil.  “I shall teach all the people to call Julius the Rector.  That’s better than Mr. Charnock—­what Raymond ought to be.”

Anne was struck dumb at this fearful display of worldliness; and Cecil betook herself to the piano, but the moment her husband appeared she showed him the list.

“He has cut out plenty of work,” said Raymond, “but three of them must want a field for their energies.”

“It is preposterous.  I want you to speak to him about it.”

“You are not expected to go to them all,” Raymond made answer.

“Then there’s no sense in having them,” responded Cecil.  “Evening services are very bad for the people, bringing them out late.  You ought to tell him so.”

“He is Rector, and I am not,” said Raymond.

“Mr. Venn did nothing without papa’s consent,” exclaimed

“My dear Cecil, don’t let your loyalty make a Harry the Eighth of your father,” said Raymond; “the clergyman ought to be a free agent.”

“You don’t approve?”

“I don’t approve or disapprove.  It is not a matter I know anything about.”

“But I assure you it has been all thought over at Dunstone.”

“Come, my mother wants to go to bed, and you are keeping her waiting.”

Cecil was silenced for the moment, but not daunted; for was it not the foremost duty of the lady of the manor to keep the clergyman in order, more especially when he was her own husband’s younger brother? so she met her brother-in-law with “Julius, when I undertook that notice, I had no notion you were going to have so many services.”

“Is there more than you have time to paint?  Then Bindon can do it, or Jenny Bowater.”

“No! it is not time or trouble; but I do not think such a number of services desirable.”

“Indeed!” said he, looking amused.

“Yes.  An over number of services frequented by no one only brings the Church into contempt.  I heard papa say so.  We only had regular Sunday and Saint’s Day services, and I am sure Dunstone was quite as religious a place as there is any need to be.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Julius, an odd look flickering about his face; “but as I am afraid Compton is not as religious a place as there is need to be, I must try, by your leave, all means of making it so.  Good night.”

He was gone, and Cecil was not sure that he had not presumed to laugh at her.

CHAPTER V A Sunday of Excitement

Strangers in court do take her for the queen.—­Shakespeare

The first Sunday of Julius Charnock’s ministry was spent in an unexpected manner.  In the darkness of the autumn morning there was a knock at the door, and a low hurried call in Anne’s voice at the bedroom door:  “Rosamond!  Julius, pray look out!  Isn’t there a great fire somewhere?”