Her place (chosen for her by Eleanor when first she had begun to go to Church, as far as possible from Reginald) was at the end of the seat, between her papa and the wall.  This morning, as she put her arm on the book-board, while rising from kneeling, she felt a sudden thrill of sharp pain smear her left elbow, which made her start violently, and would have caused a scream, had she not been in church.  She saw a wasp fall on the ground, and was just about to put her foot on it, when she recollected where she was.  She had never in her life intentionally killed anything, and this was no time to begin in that place, and when she was angry.  The pain was severe—­more so perhaps than any she had felt before—­and very much frightened, she pulled her papa’s coat to draw his attention.  But her first pull was so slight that he did not feel it, and before she gave a second she remembered that she could not make him hear what was the matter, without more noise than was proper.  No, she must stay where she was, and try to bear the pain, and she knew that if she did try, help would be given her.  She proceeded to find out the Psalm and join her voice with the others, though her heart was beating very fast, her forehead was contracted, and she could not help keeping her right hand clasped round her arm, and sometimes shifting from one foot to the other.  The sharpness of the pain soon went off; she was able to attend to the Lessons, and hoped it would soon be quite well; but as soon as she began to think about it, it began to ache and throb, and seemed each moment to be growing hotter.  The sermon especially tried her patience, her cheeks were burning, she felt sick and hardly able to hold up her head, yet she would not lean it against the wall, because she had often been told not to do so.  She was exceedingly alarmed to find that her arm had swelled so much that she could hardly bend it, and it had received the impression of the gathers of her sleeve; she thought no sermon had ever been so long, but she sat quite still and upright, as she could not have done, had she not trained herself unconsciously by her efforts to leave off the trick of kicking her heels together.  She did not speak till she was in the churchyard, and then she made Emily look at her arm.

‘My poor child, it is frightful,’ said Emily, ‘what is the matter?’

‘A wasp stung me just before the Psalms,’ said Phyllis, ’and it goes on swelling and swelling, and it does pant!’

‘What is the matter?’ asked Mr. Mohun.

‘Papa, just look,’ said Emily, ’a wasp stung this dear child quite early in the service, and she has been bearing it all this time in silence.  Why did you not show me, Phyl?’

‘Because it was in church,’ said the little girl.

‘Why, Phyllis, you are a very Spartan,’ said Lord Rotherwood.

‘Something better than a Spartan,’ said Mr. Mohun.  ’Does it give you much pain now, my dear?’