My impious eye wandered affectionately over familiar friends--the old
oak pews, almost chin-high, the Spanish organ, the reluctant gift of a
proud galleon wrecked on the snarling coast ten miles away, the old
"three-decker" with its dull crimson cushions and the fringed cloths
that hung so stiffly. A shaft of sunlight beat full on an old black
hatchment, making known the faded quarterings, while, underneath, a
slender panel of brass, but two years old, showed that the teaching of
its grim forbear had not been vain.

For so fair a morning, Bilberry village had done well. The church was
two-thirds full, and, though there were many strange faces, it was
pleasant here and there to recognize one we had known in the old days,
and to learn from an involuntary smile that we had not been forgotten.

It was just after the beginning of the Second Lesson that we heard the
engine start. There was no mistaking the purr of our Rolls-Royce. For a
second the girls and Jonah and I stared at one another, panic-stricken.
Then with one impulse we all started instinctively to our feet. As I
left the pew I heard Daphne whisper, "Hsh! We can't all----" and she and
Jonah and Jill sank back twittering. Berry's eyes met mine for an
instant as I stepped into the aisle. They spoke volumes, but to his
eternal credit his voice never faltered.

I almost ran to the porch, and I reached the lich-gate to see our
beautiful car, piloted by a man in a grey hat, scudding up the straight
white road, while in her wake tore a gesticulating trooper, shouting
impotently, ridiculously out-distanced. Even as I watched, the car
flashed round a bend and disappeared.

For a moment I stood still in the middle of the road, stupefied. Then I