‘I didn’t mean to scold you, Lily.’

’I don’t mind it from you, Mrs Boyce.  Indeed, I rather like it.  It is a sort of pastoral visitation; and as Mr Boyce never scolds me himself I take it from him by attorney.’  Then there was silence for a minute or two, during which Mrs Boyce was endeavouring to discover whether Miss Dale was laughing at her or not.  As she was not quite certain, she thought at last she would let the suspected fault pass unobserved.  ‘Don’t wait for us, Mrs Boyce,’ said Lily.  ’We must remain till Hopkins has sent Gregory to sweep the church out and take away the rubbish.  We’ll see that the key is left at Mrs Giles’s.’

’Thank you, my dear.  Then I may as well go.  I thought I’d come in and see that it was all right.  I’m sure Mr Boyce will be very much obliged to you and Miss Crawley.  Good-night, my dear.’

’Good-night, Mrs Boyce; and be sure you don’t let Mr Swanton be long tomorrow.’  To this parting shot Mrs Boyce made no rejoinder; but she hurried out of the church somewhat the quicker for it, and closed the door after her with something of a slam.

Of all persons clergymen are the most irreverent in the handling of things supposed to be sacred, and next to them clergyman’s wives, and after them those other ladies, old or young, who take upon themselves semi-clerical duties.  And it is natural that it should be so; for is it not said that familiarity does breed contempt?  When a parson takes his lay friend over his church on a week day, how much less of the spirit of genuflexion and head-uncovering the clergyman will display to the layman!  The parson pulls about the woodwork and knocks about the stonework, as though it were mere wood and stone; and talks aloud in the aisle, and treats even the reading-desk as a common thing; whereas the visitor whispers gently, and carries himself as though even in looking at a church he was bound to regard himself as performing some service that was half divine.  Now Lily Dale and Grace Crawley were both accustomed to churches, and had been so long at work in this church for the last two days, that the building had lost to them much of its sacredness, and they were almost as irreverent as though they were two curates.

‘I am so glad she has gone,’ said Lily.  ’We shall have to stop here for the next hour, as Gregory won’t know what to take away and what to leave.  I was so afraid she was going to stop and see us off the premises.’

‘I don’t know why you should dislike her.’

‘I don’t dislike her.  I like her very well,’ said Lily Dale.  ’But don’t you feel that there are people whom one knows very intimately, who are really friends—­for whom if they were dying one would grieve, whom if they were in misfortune one would go far to help, but with whom for all that one can have no sympathy.  And yet they are so near to one that they know all the events of one’s life, and are justified by unquestioned friendship in talking about things which should never be mentioned except where sympathy exists.’