’Dear Claude was only five-and-twenty when he had the living.  Nobody would take it, it was such a neglected place.  All Rockquay down there had grown up with only the old church, and nobody going to it.  It was a great deal through Rotherwood.  Some property here came to him, and he was shocked at the state of things.  Then we all thought the climate might be good for dear Claude, and Jane came to live with him and help him, and look after him.  You see there were a great many of us, and Jane—–­well, she didn’t quite get on with Alethea, and Claude thought she wanted a sphere of her own, and that is the way she comes to have more influence than any one else here.  And as I am always better in this air than anywhere else, I came soon after—–­even before my dear fathers death.  And oh! what an eager, hopeful time it was, setting everything going, and making St. Andrew’s all we could wish!  We were obliged to be cautious at the old church, you know, because of not alarming the old-fashioned people.  And so we are still—–­’

‘Is that St. Andrew’s?  Oh, it is beautiful.  May I look in?’

‘Not now, my dear.  You will see it another time.’

‘I wish it were our church.’

’You will find the convenience of having one so near.  And our services are very nice with our present rector, Mr. Ellesmere, an excellent active man, but his wife is such an invalid that all the work falls on Jane.  I am so glad you are here to help her a little.  St. Andrew’s has a separate district, and Mr. Hablot is the vicar; but as it is very poor, we keep the charities all in one.  Rotherwood built splendid schools, so we only have an infant school for the Rockstone children.  On Sunday, Jane assembles the older children there and takes them to church; but in the afternoon they all go to the National Schools, and then to a children’s service at St. Andrew’s.  She gets on so well with Mr. Hablot—–­he was dear Claude’s curate, you see, and little Mrs. Hablot was quite a pupil of ours.  What do you think little Gerald Hablot said—–­he is only five—–­“Isn’t Miss Mohun the most consultedest woman in Rockquay?"’

‘I suppose it is true,’ said Gillian, laughing, but rather awestruck.

’I declare it makes me quite giddy to count up all she has on her hands.  Nobody can do anything without her.  There are so few permanent inhabitants, and when people begin good works, they go away, or marry, or grow tired, and then we can’t let them drop!’

‘Oh! what’s that pretty spire, on the rise of the other hill?’

’My dear, that was the Kennel Mission Chapel, a horrid little hideous iron thing, but Lady Flight mistook and called it St. Kenelm’s, and St. Kenelm’s it will be to the end of the chapter.’  And as she exchanged bows with a personage in a carriage, ’There she is, my dear.’

‘Who?  Did she build that church?’

’It is not consecrated.  It really is only a mission chapel, and he is nothing but a curate of Mr. Hablot’s,’ said Aunt Ada, Gillian thought a little venomously.