settled we all stowed away in the carriages and drove off. It was only
a short drive; but when we came in sight of the quaint little church
there was no sound of bells, and it became evident that we were late.
In the porch we shook out our dresses, the Irishman divided the burden
of Prayer Books he had been gallantly bearing, our hostess turned back
from the half-open door to say in a loud and encouraging whisper,
'It's only the Confession;' and we swept up the little church into a
huge square pew.

"My dear Ida, I must tell you that we had been brought up to have a
just horror of being late for service, this being a point on which my
father was what is called 'very particular.' Fatima and I therefore
felt greatly discomposed by our late and disturbing entrance, though
we were in no way to blame. We had also been taught to kneel during
the prayers, and it was with a most uncomfortable sensation of doubt
and shame-facedness that we saw one lady after another sit down and
bend her bonnet over her lap, and hesitated ourselves to follow our
own customs in the face of such a majority. But the red-haired young
lady seemed fated to help us out of our difficulties. She sank at once
on her knees in a corner of the pew, her green silk falling round her;
we knelt by her side, and the question was settled. The little
Irishman cast a doubtful glance at her for a moment, and then sat
down, bending his head deeply into his hat. We went through a similar
process about responding, which did not seem to be the fashion with
our hostess and her friends. The red-haired young lady held to her own
customs, however, and we held with her. Our responses were the less
conspicuous, as they were a good deal drowned by the voice of an old
gentleman in the next pew. Diversity seemed to prevail in the manners
of the congregation. This gentleman stood during prayers, balancing a
huge Prayer Book on the corner of the pew, and responding in a loud