It was Christmas-time down at Allington, and at three o'clock on Christmas Eve, just as the darkness of the early winter evening was coming on, Lily Dale and Grace Crawley were seated together, one above the other, on the steps leading up to the pulpit at Allington Church.
They had been working all day at the decorations of the church, and they were now looking round them at the result of their handiwork. To an eye unused to the gloom the place would have been nearly dark; but they could see every corner turned by the ivy sprigs, and every line on which the holly-leaves were shining. And the greeneries of the winter had not been stuck up in the old-fashioned, idle way, a bough just fastened up here and a twig inserted there; but everything had been done with some meaning, with some thought towards the original architecture of the building. The Gothic lines had been followed, and all the lower arches which it had been possible to reach with an ordinary ladder had been turned as truly with the laurel cuttings as they had been turned originally with the stone.
'I wouldn't tie another twig,' said the elder girl, 'for all the Christmas puddings that was ever boiled.'
'It's lucky then that there isn't another twig to tie.'
'I don't know about that. I see a score of places where the work has been scamped. This is the sixth time I have done the church, and I don't think I'll ever do it again. When we first began it, Bell and I, you know--before Bell was married--Mrs Boyce, and the Boycian establishment generally, used to come and help. Or rather we used to help her. Now she hardly ever looks after it at all.'
'She is older, I suppose.'
'She's a little older, and a deal idler. How idle people do get! Look at him. Since he has had a curate he hardly ever stirs round the parish.
And he is getting so fat that--H--sh! Here she is herself--come to give her judgment upon us.' Then a stout lady, the wife of the vicar, walked slowly up the aisle. 'Well, girls,' she said, 'you have worked hard, and I am sure Mr Boyce will be very much obliged to you.'
'Mr Boyce, indeed!' said Lily Dale. 'We shall expect the whole parish to rise from their seats and thank us. Why didn't Jane and Betsy come and help us?'
'They were so tired when they came in from the coal club. Besides, they don't care for this kind of thing--not as you do.'
'Jane is utilitarian to the backbone, I know,' said Lily, 'and Betsy doesn't like getting up ladders.'
'As for ladders,' said Mrs Boyce, defending her daughter, 'I am not quite sure that Betsy isn't right. You don't mean to say that you did all those capitals yourself?'
'Every twig, with Hopkins to hold the ladder and cut the sticks; and as Hopkins is just a hundred and one years old, we could have done it pretty nearly as well alone.'
'I do not think that,' said Grace.
'He has been grumbling all the time,' said Lily, 'and swears he never will have the laurels robbed again. Five or six years ago he used to declare that death would certainly save him from the pain of such another desecration before next Christmas; but he has given up that foolish notion now, and talks as though he meant to protect the Allington shrubs at any rate to the end of this century.'
'I am sure we gave our share from the parsonage,' said Mrs Boyce, who never understood a joke.
'All the best came from the parsonage, as of course they ought,' said Lily. 'But Hopkins had to make up the deficiency. And as my uncle told him to take the haycart for them instead of the hand-barrow, he is broken-hearted.'
'I am sure he was very good-natured,' said Grace.
'Nevertheless he is broken-hearted; and I am very good-natured too, and I am broken-backed. Who is going to preach tomorrow morning, Mrs Boyce?'
'Mr Swanton will preach in the morning.'
'Tell him not to be too long because of the children's pudding. Tell Mr Boyce if he is long, we won't any of us come next Sunday.'
'My dear, how can you say such wicked things! I shall not tell him anything of the kind.'
'That's not wicked, Mrs Boyce. If I were to say I had eaten so much lunch that I didn't want any dinner, you'd understand that. If Mr Swanton will preach for three-quarters of an hour--'
'He only preached for three-quarters of an hour once, Lily.'
'He has been over the half-hour every Sunday since he has been here.
His average is over forty minutes, and I say it's a shame.'
'It is not a shame at all, Lily,' said Mrs Boyce, becoming very serious.
'Look at my uncle; he doesn't like to go to sleep, and he has to suffer a purgatory in keeping himself awake.'
'If your uncle is heavy now, how can Mr Swanton help it? If Mr Dale's mind were on the subject he would not sleep.'
'Come, Mrs Boyce; there's somebody else asleep sometimes besides my uncle. When Mr Boyce puts up his finger and just touches his nose, Iknow as well as possible why he does it.'
'Lily Dale, you have no business to say so. It is not true. I don't know how you can bring yourself to talk in that way of your own clergyman. If I were to tell your mamma, she would be shocked.'
'You won't be so ill-natured, Mrs Boyce--after all that I've done for the church.'
'If you think more about the clergymen, Lily, and less about the church,' said Mrs Boyce very sententiously, 'more about the matter and less about the manner, more of the reality and less of the form, I think you would find that your religion would go further with you. Miss Crawley is the daughter of a clergyman, and I am sure she will agree with me.'
'If she agrees with anybody in scolding me I'll quarrel with her.'
'I didn't mean to scold you, Lily.'
'I don't mind it from you, Mrs Boyce. Indeed, I rather like it. It is a sort of pastoral visitation; and as Mr Boyce never scolds me himself Itake it from him by attorney.' Then there was silence for a minute or two, during which Mrs Boyce was endeavouring to discover whether Miss Dale was laughing at her or not. As she was not quite certain, she thought at last she would let the suspected fault pass unobserved.
'Don't wait for us, Mrs Boyce,' said Lily. 'We must remain till Hopkins has sent Gregory to sweep the church out and take away the rubbish.
