"I fear I scarce have your glasses, Cicely," answered Celia, with a sigh. "I've done the ruffles now," said Cicely, rising. "You come to me into my little room when you've time, Mrs. Celia, and I'll show you some of them fine bits--any time you like. And as to the glasses, you ask for 'em. Good-night, Mrs. Celia." Ashcliffe Hall was up at six on week-days, but when the Sunday came round, it was not its custom to rise before eight. Costumes were resplendent on that day, and took some time in assuming. On Sundays and special gala-days only, the young ladies wore hoop-petticoats and patched their faces.[6] Their attire to-day comprised quilted petticoats of light-blue satin, silk brocaded gowns, extremely long in the waist, _cornettes_ of lace, lace-trimmed muslin aprons, white silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. Their gowns, too, had trains, which for comfort were fastened up behind, looking like a huge burden on the back of the wearer. They looked very stiff as they rustled down the stairs,--all except Lucy, whom no costume on earth could stiffen, though even she wore a graver and more demure air than usual, which perhaps was partly due to the coming sermons. The girls drank their tea, Lucy joining them in the meal, but using milk instead of the fashionable beverage. By the time they had done, Madam Passmore and the Squire were down-stairs; they always breakfasted in their own room on Sunday mornings. Then John, the old coachman, slowly drove up to the front door the great family-coach, drawn by two large, dappled, long-maned and heavy-looking horses. The coach held eight inside, so that it conveniently accommodated all the family, Cicely included, with the exception of Charley, who generally perched himself on the great box, which was quite large enough to admit him between John and the footman. The church was barely half a mile from the Hall, but none of the Ashcliffe family ever thought of walking there; such a proceeding would have involved a loss of dignity. It was a fine old Gothic edifice, one of those large stately churches which here and there seem dropped by accident into a country village, whose population has dwindled far below its ancient standard. The pews were about five feet high, the church having been recently and fashionably repewed. There was a great pulpit, with a carved oak sounding-board, an equally large reading-desk, and a clerk's desk, the last occupied by a little old man who looked coeval with the church. The Squire bestowed great attention upon the responses, which he uttered in a loud, sonorous tone; but when the psalm was over--one of Sternhold and Hopkins' version, for Ashcliffe Church was much too old and respectable to descend to the new version of Tate and Brady--and when the clergyman had announced his text, which the Squire noted down, that in the evening he might be able to question Charley and Lucy concerning it--no further notice did anything obtain from the owner of Ashcliffe