Although Mary possessed none of the sour bigotry of a narrow mind, she was yet punctual in the discharge of her religious duties; and the Sunday following her arrival, as they sat at breakfast, she inquired of her cousin at what time the church service began.

“I really am not certain—­I believe it is late,” replied her cousin carelessly.  “But why do you ask?’

“Because I wish to be there in proper time.”

“But we scarcely ever go—­never, indeed, to the parish church—­and we are rather distant from any other; so you must say your prayers at home.”

“I would certainly prefer going to church,” said Mary.

“Going to church!” exclaimed Dr. Redgill in amazement.  “I wonder what makes people so keen of going to church!  I’m sure there’s little good to be got there.  For my part, I declare I would just as soon think of going into my grave.  Take my word for it, churches and churchyards are rather too nearly related.”

“In such a day as this,” said Mary, “so dry and sunny, I am sure there can be no danger.”

“Take your own way, Miss Mary,” said the Doctor; “but I think it my duty to let you know my opinion of churches.  I look upon them as extremely prejudicial to the health.  They are invariably either too hot or too cold; you are either stewed or starved in them; and, till some improvement takes place, I assure you my foot shall never enter one of them.  In fact, they are perfect receptacles of human infirmities.  I can tell you one of your church-going ladies at a glance; they have all rheumatisms in their shoulders, and colds in their heads, and swelled faces.  Besides it’s a poor country church—­there’s nothing to be seen after you do go.”

“I assure you Lady Juliana will be excessively annoyed if you go,” said Lady Emily, as Mary rose to leave the room.

“Surely my mother cannot be displeased at my attending church!” said Mary in astonishment.

“Yes, she can, and most certainly will.  She never goes herself now, since she had a quarrel with Dr. Barlow, the clergyman; and she can’t bear any of the family to attend him.”

“And you have my sanction for staying away, Miss Mary,” added the Doctor.

“Is he a man of bad character?” asked Mary, as she stood irresolute whether to proceed.

“Quite the reverse.  He is a very good man; but he was scandalised at Lady Juliana’s bringing her dogs to church one day, and wrote her what she conceived a most insolent letter about it.  But here come your lady-mamma and the culprits in question.”

“Your Ladyship is just come in time to settle a dispute here,” said the Doctor, anxious to turn her attention from a hot muffin, which had just been brought in, and which he meditated appropriating to himself:  “I have said all I can—­(Was you looking at the toast, Lady Emily?)—­I must now leave it to your Ladyship to convince this young lady of the folly of going to church.”