"Do you think they are, Miss Chichester? Do you really think they are unfriendly to Mr. Farrar?"
There was an appealing tone in the woman's voice that should have gone straight to Miss Chichester's heart, and led her into making some effort to repair the havoc she had already wrought; but Miss Chichester was enjoying too deeply the sensation she was creating to take much note of the pain she was giving to her listener.
"I'm afraid they are, Mrs. Farrar," she replied. "I'm afraid they will make it very uncomfortable for Mr. Farrar if he insists on trying to carry out his projects. I do hope he'll abandon them, if it's necessary to do it in order to avoid trouble in the church."
The child in the crib stirred and moaned in its sleep, and the mother went to it and readjusted its position and murmured some soothing words to it, and returned to her chair.
"I am so sorry," she said.
"Indeed, it is terrible," assented Miss Chichester. "I thought I must come in and give you what little comfort I could. I brought Barry Malleson along, and he's down-stairs with Mr. Farrar now, trying to prevail on him not to antagonize the vestrymen any more. Barry isn't a communicant, you know, but he's a man of such good judgment."
"Is he?"
"Oh, very."
"I do hope Mr. Farrar will listen to him."
Miss Chichester rose to take her departure, but it was five minutes later before she actually got away, and when she went down-stairs Barry had already gone. He had not accomplished all that he had hoped to accomplish when he came, but he felt that he had made it so clear to the rector that he was on the wrong track that his restoration to reason and good judgment would necessarily soon follow.
