InBorlase the dairy-farmers meadow the red cows
were grazing, knee-deep in shining seas of grass.
The spectre of theunmade jackboots stalked back
into Dorothys mind. Mr Warburton ran his right hand caressingly down her upper
arm.
Ive been making special prayers all the morningthat
shell give it to us.
You can hardly see whats happening atthe altar,
there are such clouds of incense.
Think how bored I shall be allalone if you go home
at this hour. Now, however, her conscience waspricking her. She knelt down amongthe
tall weeds beneath the hedge.
Not as I dont expect asitll do me much good. Unseen
by Mrs Pither, Dorothy gave herself a severe pinch. But you arent afraid, by
anychance, that I might convert YOU?
Its theseswine of atheists like Bertrand Russell
and Julian Huxley and allthat crowd.
Yes, but you know how much Father dislikes that
kind of thing. For the moment shehad even forgotten the bill for twenty-one pounds
seven andninepence at Cargills. Doyou think you could say a little prayer with me,
Miss Dorothy?
Its dreadful, admitted Dorothy, sewing on her
button.
Oh, I hate the way they go on at St Wedekinds! But
of course, likeeveryone else, he despised his own especial talent.
The spectre of theunmade jackboots stalked back
into Dorothys mind. On EasterSunday he was wearing a Gothic cope with a modern
Italian lace alb. Mrs Pither was always ready for a little prayer at any hour ofthe
night or day.
It was very rarely that a week passed when Victor
did not write aletter to the Church Times. She made the costumes, or most of them,
for allthe plays the schoolchildren acted. He was what people call aCHURCHY young
man. Noneed to worry about that here, you know. The lovely silk clothesthat you
would put on clean every morning!