Clementina gently returned the embrace, and the thing was settled.
The sound of their wheels, pausing in swift revolution with the
clangor of iron hoofs on rough stones at the door of the chapel,
refreshed the diaconal heart like the sound of water in the desert.
For the first time in the memory of the oldest, the dayspring of
success seemed on the point of breaking over Hope Chapel. The ladies
were ushered in by Mr Marshal himself, to Clementina's disgust and
Florimel's amusement, with much the same attention as his own shop
walker would have shown to carriage customers--How could a man
who taught light and truth be found in such a mean entourage? But
the setting was not the jewel. A real stone might be found in a
copper ring. So said Clementina to herself as she sat waiting her
hoped for instructor.
Mrs Catanach settled her broad back into its corner, chuckling
over her own wisdom and foresight. Her seat was at the pulpit end
of the chapel, at right angles to almost all the rest of the pews
--chosen because thence, if indeed she could not well see the
preacher, she could get a good glimpse of nearly everyone that
entered. Keen sighted both physically and intellectually, she
recognized Florimel the moment she saw her.
"Twa doos mair to the boody craw!" she laughed to herself.
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