The old Squire entered the church, paused, and blew his nose violently, and taking Honoria by the hand, marched her up to the end of the south aisle.  The door of the great pew was shut upon them, and they disappeared.  Before Honoria vanished Taffy caught a glimpse of a grey felt hat with pink ribbons.

The servants scattered and found seats in the body of the church.  He went on ringing, but no one else came.  After a minute or two Mr. Raymond signed to him to stop and go to his mother, which he did, blushing at the noise of his shoes on the slate pavement.  Mr. Raymond followed, walked slowly past, and entered the reading-desk.

“When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive. . . .”

Taffy looked towards the Squire’s pew.  The bald top of the Squire’s head was just visible above the ledge.  He looked up at his mother, but her eyes were fastened on her prayer-book.  He felt—­he could not help it—­that they were all gathered to save this old man’s soul, and that everybody knew it and secretly thought it a hopeless case.  The notion dogged him all through the service, and for many Sundays after.  Always that bald head above the ledge, and his father and the congregation trying to call down salvation on it.  He wondered what Honoria thought, boxed up with it and able to see its face.

Mr. Raymond mounted an upper pulpit to preach his sermon.  He chose his text from Saint Matthew, Chapter vii., verses 26 and 27: 

“And every one that heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man which built his house upon the sand;

“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell; and great was the fall of it.”

Taffy never followed his father’s sermons closely.  He would listen to a sentence or two, now and again, and then let his wits wander.

“You think this church is built upon the sands.  The rain has come, the winds have blown and beaten on it; the foundations have sunk and it leans to leeward. . . .  By the blessing of God we will shore it up, and upon a foundation of rock.  Upon what rock, you ask? . . .  Upon that rock which is the everlasting foundation of the Church spiritual. . . .  Hear what comfortable words our Lord spake to Peter. . . .  Our foundation must be faith, which is God’s continuing Presence on earth, and which we shall recognise hereafter as God Himself. . . .  Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. . . .  In other words, it is the rock we search for. . . .  Draw near it, and you will know yourself in God’s very shadow—­the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. . . .  As with this building, so with you, O man, cowering from wrath, as these walls are cowering. . . .”

The benediction was pronounced, the pew-door opened, and the old man marched down the aisle, looking neither to right nor to left, with his jaw set like a closed gin.  Honoria followed.  She had not so much as a glance for Taffy; but in passing she gazed frankly at Humility, whom she had not seen before.