consider. On Monday I will act."

Even the strangers themselves, as they walked up the aisle of St.
Symphorian's Church, Troy, on the following morning, could not but
perceive something of importance to be in the wind. That the church
should be full was not unusual, for in those days Sunday Observance
was the rule among Trojans. But on this particular day the Wesleyan
and Bible Christian chapels must have been sadly depleted, so great
was the crush; and, besides, there was the unwonted magnificence of
dress, the stir caused by the simultaneous turning of some hundred
bonnets as the Goodwyn-Sandys entered, the audible whispering as they
took their seats, the nervousness of the Vicar, who twice dropped his
spectacles over the reading desk and once over the pulpit. On this
last occasion one of the glasses was broken, and the sermon in
consequence became, towards the end, a trifle involved. All this
made the service rather hysterical.

Tell me, my Muse, thou who sittest at the tea-table and rejoicest in
the rattling of cups: Who were they that attended St. Symphorian's
Church on this Sunday morning? First, there were the Misses
Limpenny, in black tabbinet dresses and lace shawls; a cameo brooch
adorned the throat of each, and from her waist a reticule depended.
These first directed the gold-bound optic glass at the strangers'
pew. Behind them sat the Doctor and his wife, the one conspicuous
for his black stock, the other for a shawl of Paisley workmanship.
Next, the Harbour-master, tall Mr. Stripp, with his daughters
Tryphena and Tryphosa; nor would Mrs. Stripp have been absent had she
not been buried some years before. Yellow-haired were both the
daughters, and few knew better the prevailing fashion in dress; these
whispered concerning Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' costume. By them sat Mr.