It was a lovely morning, and every one was going to walk over to Fifield church except Laura, who had almost tearfully entreated to be left in charge of Lally. “I love her as much as any of you,” she said, “and still I have the least to do with her.” So it was settled that Laura should remain at home, and all the rest proceed along Berrie Down Lane,—up which we walked slowly and lingeringly in the first chapter in this book—to Fifield. A large party—for, although the intended festivities had been given up, and no visitors were invited to Berrie Down Hollow, still, the Dudleys themselves made a goodly number—eight, including Bessie—who looked pale and tired when she came into the drawing-room, “dressed in all her best;” so shrieked Harry Marsden—and ready to go to church. “Mayn’t I go too?” asked that young gentleman, pulling at Heather’s dress; “I’d like the walk as well as anybody.” “Do you think it is only for the sake of the walk we are going to church, Harry?” asked Agnes, virtuously drawing on her gloves as she spoke. “How should I know? Bessie’s likely going for the sake of the young men; that’s what pa says takes all girls to church,” answered the _enfant terrible_. “Well, I daresay Mrs. Dudley will not object to your seeing whether that is what we go for,” said Bessie. “I will brush your hair and put you to rights, for you are a perfect scarecrow now.” And thus it was settled Master Marsden should accompany the party; and Alick, home for Christmas, had not a chance given him of looking at Agnes to see how she took Harry’s remark about the object for which young ladies went to church. “What had taken her to North Kemms,” he wondered; “whom could the man be they had met there? what his connection with Bessie?” These questions Alick stood striving vainly to answer, while Master Marsden was being brushed and made look respectable by Bessie Ormson. “I am as good as a mother to you, Harry,” she said. “I am sure you are; but that’s not saying much,” answered the boy. “Mine has always a headache, and is constantly telling us not to make a noise. Noise, indeed! Women can make enough noise themselves, when they want to.” “Do not say ‘want to,’ Harry, it is vulgar.” “No more vulgar than you are,” he replied. “I shall talk as I like. What is good enough for pa ought to be good enough for you.” “It is a fortunate thing for both of us that I am not your pa, as you call him,” Bessie answered, “for I should shake you to death some day. Now, are you ready, or are you going to keep us waiting all day?” “You think you look so nice in that bonnet,” Harry sneered, “that you want to be off like a flash of lightning. You are none so pretty, some people think, though Harcourt, as my papa says, does imagine there is nobody like you. Pa says he would not marry you. I heard pa tell ma so, not a week before I came here.” “I can’t wonder at that,” Bessie replied; “your papa probably finds he has married one too many of the family already.”