His face was
inscrutable and expressionless. The shock left her bewildered. Anger
perhaps was her dominating emotion.
The audience began to rustle to its feet, to ooze slowly and excitedly
out of the chapel, looking with wildly-interested eyes at Fanny, at Mrs.
Nixon, and at Harry. Mrs. Nixon, shortish, stood defiant in her pew,
facing the aisle, as if announcing that, without rolling her sleeves up,
she was ready for anybody. Fanny sat quite still. Luckily the people did
not have to pass her. And Harry, with red ears, was making his way
sheepishly out of the gallery. The loud noise of the organ covered all
the downstairs commotion of exit.
The minister sat silent and inscrutable in his pulpit, rather like a
death's-head, while the congregation filed out. When the last lingerers
had unwillingly departed, craning their necks to stare at the still
seated Fanny, he rose, stalked in his hooked fashion down the little
country chapel and fastened the door. Then he returned and sat down by
the silent young woman.
'This is most unfortunate, most unfortunate!' he moaned. 'I am so sorry,
I am so sorry, indeed, indeed, ah, indeed!' he sighed himself to a close.
'It's a sudden surprise, that's one thing,' said Fanny brightly.
'Yes--yes--indeed. Yes, a surprise, yes. I don't know the woman, I don't
know her.'
'I know her,' said Fanny. 'She's a bad one.'
'Well! Well!' said the minister.
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