"It's been too bad, Maggie, dear; it's simply ages since we had a moment, isn't it, but it hasn't been my fault.Father's been ill--bronchitis--and I've had to help Mother.Father's been so happy, he's just been able to lie in bed for days and think about God.None of those tiresome people at the Bank to interrupt him, and chicken and jelly as much as he liked.He was so unhappy yesterday when he had to go back to work, poor dear...But, Maggie, I hear you were at the service last night.How did you like it?""Like it?" said Maggie."I don't know that it's a thing one likes, exactly.""Doesn't one? I don't know.I'm not one of the Inside Saints, you know, and I wouldn't be if they wanted me to he.But you're one now, they say, and I never would have thought it.You don't look a bit like one, and I shouldn't have dreamt that you'd ever stand that sort of thing.You look so matter-of-fact."Maggie was on the point of bursting out that she was not an Inside Saint, and would never be one, when caution restrained her.She had learnt already that her gay young companion was not as trustworthy as best friends ought to be.
"It was the first time, last night," she said.
"Yes, I know, and Miss Cardinal was ill and had to come away in the middle, didn't she? It must have been a simply awful meeting, because Mother came back as limp as anything.She'd been crying buckets, and has a dreadful headache to-day.I suppose Mr.Crashaw gave it them.I've never heard him, but I've seen him.Horrid old monkey--I hope Miss Cardinal's better to-day.""Yes, thank you," said Maggie."She's better.""Well, that's a good thing.I'm so glad.And you, you darling, what did you think of it all? I'm sure you didn't cry buckets.I can see you sitting there as quiet as anything, like a little Quaker.I'd like to have gone just to have seen you.I hear Martin Warlock was there too.Was he?""He was," said Maggie.