that was wonderful in decoration; and thus many of them had been made happy.
On their return from church, Miss Furnival insisted on walking, in order, as she said, that Miss Staveley might not have all the fatigue; but Miss Staveley would walk also, and the carriage, after a certain amount of expostulation and delay, went off with its load incomplete.
'And now for the plum-pudding part of the arrangement,' said Felix Graham.
'Yes, Mr. Graham,' said Madeline, 'now for the plum-pudding—and the blindman's buff.'
'Did you ever see anything more perfect than the church, Mr. Mason?' said Sophia.
'Anything more perfect? no; in that sort of way, perhaps, never. I have seen the choir of Cologne.'
'Come, come; that's not fair,' said Graham. 'Don't import Cologne in order to crush us here down in our little English villages. You never saw the choir of Cologne bright with holly berries.'
'No; but I have with cardinal's stockings, and bishop's robes.'
'I think I should prefer the holly,' said Miss Furnival. 'And why should not our churches always look like that, only changing the flowers and the foliage with the season? It would make the service so attractive.'
'It would hardly do at Lent,' said Madeline, in a serious tone.
'No, perhaps not at Lent exactly.'
Peregrine and Augustus Staveley were walking on in front, not perhaps as well satisfied with the day as the rest of the party. Augustus, on leaving the church, had made a little effort to assume his place as usual by Miss Furnival's side, but by some accident of war, Mason was there before him. He had not cared to make one of a party of three, and therefore had gone on in advance with young Orme. Nor was Peregrine himself much more happy. He did not know why, but he felt within his breast a growing aversion to Felix Graham. Graham was a puppy, he thought, and a fellow that talked too much; and then he was such a confoundedly ugly dog, and—and—and—Peregrine Orme did not like him. He was not a man to analyze his own feelings in such matters. He did not ask himself why he should have been rejoiced to hear that instant business had taken Felix Graham off to Hong Kong; but he knew that he would have rejoiced. He knew also that Madeline Staveley was. No; he did not know what she was; but when he was alone, he carried on with her all manner of imaginary conversations, though when he was in her company he had hardly a word to say to her. Under these circumstances he fraternized with her brother; but even in that he could not receive much satisfaction, seeing that he could not abuse Graham to Graham's special friend, nor could
