in a score of places, was again worn through in the very middle, so as
to show the under cloth, which in its turn was so worn and so
transparent that one could see the consecrated stone, embedded in the
painted wood of the altar. La Teuse dusted the linen, yellow from long
usage, and plied her feather-brush along the shelf against which she set
the liturgical altar-cards. Then, climbing upon a chair, she removed the
yellow cotton covers from the crucifix and two of the candlesticks. The
brass of the latter was tarnished.

'Dear me!' she muttered, 'they really want a clean! I must give them a
polish up!'

Then hopping on one leg, swaying and stumping heavily enough to drive in
the flagstones, she hastened to the sacristy for the Missal, which she
placed unopened on the lectern on the Epistle side, with its edges
turned towards the middle of the altar. And afterwards she lighted the
two candles. As she went off with her broom, she gave a glance round her
to make sure that the abode of the Divinity had been put in proper
order. All was still, save that the bell-rope near the confessional
still swung between roof and floor with a sinuous sweep.

Abbe Mouret had just come down to the sacristy, a small and chilly
apartment, which a passage separated from his dining-room.

'Good morning, Monsieur le Cure,' said La Teuse, laying her broom aside.
'Oh! you have been lazy this morning! Do you know it's a quarter past
six?' And without allowing the smiling young priest sufficient time to
reply, she added 'I've a scolding to give you. There's another hole in
the cloth again. There's no sense in it. We have only one other, and
I've been ruining my eyes over it these three days in trying to mend it.