account she was grown-up indeed. What would these Morrises be like?

She found now that she was beginning to be a little frightened. Mr. Morris
was the new Rector of St. James', the little church over by the cattle
market. He had not been in Polchester very long and was said to be a shy
timid man, but a good preacher. He was a widower, and his sister-in-law
kept house for him. Joan considered further on the great importance of
these concessions; it made all the difference to everything. She was now
to have a life of her own, and every kind of adventure and romance was
possible for her. She was suddenly so happy that she sprang up and did a
little dance round her room, a sort of polka, that became so vehement that
the pictures and the little rickety table rattled.

"I'll be so grown-up at the Morrises' this afternoon that they'll think
I've been calling for years," she said to herself.

She had need of all her courage and optimism at luncheon, for it was a
gloomy meal. Only her father and mother were present. They were all very
silent.

After lunch she went upstairs, put on her hat and coat, picked up the
three Library books, and started off. It was a sunny day, with shadows
chasing one another across the Cathedral green. There was, as there so
often is in Polchester, a smell of the sea in the air, cold and
invigorating. She paused for a moment and looked across at the Cathedral.
She did not know why, but she had been always afraid of the Cathedral. She
had never loved it, and had always wished that they could go on Sundays to
some little church like St. James'.

For most of her conscious life the Cathedral had hung over her with its