Even the strangers themselves, as they walked up the aisle of St. Symphorian’s Church, Troy, on the following morning, could not but perceive something of importance to be in the wind.  That the church should be full was not unusual, for in those days Sunday Observance was the rule among Trojans.  But on this particular day the Wesleyan and Bible Christian chapels must have been sadly depleted, so great was the crush; and, besides, there was the unwonted magnificence of dress, the stir caused by the simultaneous turning of some hundred bonnets as the Goodwyn-Sandys entered, the audible whispering as they took their seats, the nervousness of the Vicar, who twice dropped his spectacles over the reading desk and once over the pulpit.  On this last occasion one of the glasses was broken, and the sermon in consequence became, towards the end, a trifle involved.  All this made the service rather hysterical.

Tell me, my Muse, thou who sittest at the tea-table and rejoicest in the rattling of cups:  Who were they that attended St. Symphorian’s Church on this Sunday morning?  First, there were the Misses Limpenny, in black tabbinet dresses and lace shawls; a cameo brooch adorned the throat of each, and from her waist a reticule depended.  These first directed the gold-bound optic glass at the strangers’ pew.  Behind them sat the Doctor and his wife, the one conspicuous for his black stock, the other for a shawl of Paisley workmanship.  Next, the Harbour-master, tall Mr. Stripp, with his daughters Tryphena and Tryphosa; nor would Mrs. Stripp have been absent had she not been buried some years before.  Yellow-haired were both the daughters, and few knew better the prevailing fashion in dress; these whispered concerning Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys’ costume.  By them sat Mr. Moggridge, the poet, good at the responses, and Sam Buzza, his friend, whom few Trojans excelled in casting glances at the female congregation.  Then, most gorgeous and bravest of all, the Admiral:  he wore again his gold-laced coat, but the cocked-hat rested underneath the seat, and none could fathom the import of his gaze.  By him sat his three daughters, a-row, in straight-backed dresses of like cut and colour, and peeped over their prayer-books; and Mrs. Buzza, timorous, in bright green satin.  But of the throng of Trojan men and women, not though I had a hundred mouths, etc., etc.

“Her dress must have cost nine shillings a yard if it cost a penny,” said Miss Limpenny when they were outside in the open air.  She looked at the ground as she said so, for she could forget neither the Nightcap nor the Telescope.

The Admiral was silent.

“She is very lovely,” remarked Mrs. Buzza, “and did you remark how the Vicar paused in the Litany when he came to ’all the Nobility’?”

“I was particularly careful to pray for Lord Sinkport,” said Calypso, innocently.

Still the Admiral was silent.  That afternoon Mrs. Buzza, stealing softly into the back parlour lest she should disturb her lord, was amazed, in place of the usual recumbent form with a bandanna over its face, to find him sitting up, wide awake, and staring gloomily.