He waved his hands.

“The rest is easy,” he said.  “We need not discuss that.”

To Mabel’s mind even the previous ceremonies seemed easy enough.  But she was undeceived.

“You have no idea, Mrs. Brand,” went on the ceremoniarius, “of the difficulties involved even in such a simple matter as this.  The stupidity of people is prodigious.  I foresee a great deal of hard work for us all....  Who is to deliver the discourse, Mr. Brand?”

Oliver shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he said.  “I suppose Mr. Snowford will select.”

Mr. Francis looked at him doubtfully.

“What is your opinion of the whole affair, sir?” he said.

Oliver paused a moment.

“I think it is necessary,” he began.  “There would not be such a cry for worship if it was not a real need.  I think too—­yes, I think that on the whole the ritual is impressive.  I do not see how it could be bettered....”

“Yes, Oliver?” put in his wife, questioningly.

“No—­there is nothing—­except ... except I hope the people will understand it.”

Mr. Francis broke in.

“My dear sir, worship involves a touch of mystery.  You must remember that.  It was the lack of that that made Empire Day fail in the last century.  For myself, I think it is admirable.  Of course much must depend on the manner in which it is presented.  I see many details at present undecided—­the colour of the curtains, and so forth.  But the main plan is magnificent.  It is simple, impressive, and, above all, it is unmistakable in its main lesson—–­”

“And that you take to be—?”

“I take it that it is homage offered to Life,” said the other slowly.  “Life under four aspects—­Maternity corresponds to Christmas and the Christian fable; it is the feast of home, love, faithfulness.  Life itself is approached in spring, teeming, young, passionate.  Sustenance in midsummer, abundance, comfort, plenty, and the rest, corresponding somewhat to the Catholic Corpus Christi; and Paternity, the protective, generative, masterful idea, as winter draws on....  I understand it was a German thought.”

Oliver nodded.

“Yes,” he said.  “And I suppose it will be the business of the speaker to explain all this.”

“I take it so.  It appears to me far more suggestive than the alternative plan—­Citizenship, Labour, and so forth.  These, after all, are subordinate to Life.”

Mr. Francis spoke with an extraordinary suppressed enthusiasm, and the priestly look was more evident than ever.  It was plain that his heart at least demanded worship.

Mabel clasped her hands suddenly.

“I think it is beautiful,” she said softly, “and—­and it is so real.”

Mr. Francis turned on her with a glow in his brown eyes.

“Ah! yes, madam.  That is it.  There is no Faith, as we used to call it:  it is the vision of Facts that no one can doubt; and the incense declares the sole divinity of Life as well as its mystery.”