Many eyes were on Mr. Pericles, who occasionally inspected the cornices and corbels and stained glass to right and left, or detected a young lady staring at him, or anticipated her going to stare, and put her to confusion by a sharp turn of his head, and then a sniff and smoothing down of his moustache.  But he did not once look at the Brookfield pew.  By hazard his eye ranged over it, and after the first performance of this trick he would have found the ladies a match for him, even if he had sought to challenge their eyes.  They were constrained to admit that Laura Tinley managed him cleverly.  She made him hold a book and appear respectably devout.  She got him down in good time when seats were taken, and up again, without much transparent persuasion.  The first notes of the organ were seen to agitate the bearskin.  Laura had difficulty to induce the man to rise for the hymn, and when he had listened to the intoning of a verse, Mr. Pericles suddenly bent, as if he had snapped in two:  nor could Laura persuade him to rejoin the present posture of the congregation.  Then only did Laura, to cover her failure, turn the subdued light of a merry smile upon the Brookfield pew.

The smile was noticed by Apprehension sitting in the corner of one eye, and it was likewise known that Laura’s chagrin at finding that she was not being watched affected her visibly.  At the termination of the sermon, the ladies bowed their heads a short space, and placing Mrs. Chump in front drove her out, so that her exclamations of wonderment, and affectedly ostentatious gaspings of sympathy for Brookfield, were heard by few.  On they hurried, straight and fast to Brookfield.  Mr. Pole was talking to Tracy Runningbrook at the gate.  The ladies cut short his needless apology to the young man for not being found in church that day, by asking questions of Tracy.  The first related to their brother’s whereabouts; the second to Emilia’s condition.  Tracy had no time to reply.  Mrs. Chump had identified herself with Brookfield so warmly that the defection of Mr. Pericles was a fine legitimate excitement to her.  “I hate ’m!” she cried.  “I pos’tively hate the man!  And he to go to church!  A pretty figure for an angel—­he, now!  But, my dears, we cann’t let annybody else have ‘m.  Shorrt of his bein’ drowned or killed, we must intrigue to keep the wretch to ourselves.”

“Oh, dear!” said Adela impatiently.

“Well, and I didn’t say to myself, ye little jealous thing!” retorted Mrs. Chump.

“Indeed, ma’am, you are welcome to him.”

“And indeed, miss, I don’t want ‘m.  And, perhaps, ye were flirtin’ all the fun out of him on board the yacht, and got tired of ’m; and that’s why.”

Adela said:  “Thank you,” with exasperating sedateness, which provoked an intemperate outburst from Mrs. Chump.  “Sunday!  Sunday!” cried Mr. Pole.