The sound of voices--the speakers clearly almost out of breath, but none the less talking--approached the wicket-gate, and three bonnets appeared above the wall there. "It be the Greene Ferne folk," said Hedges. "Measter Newton and t'other chap was too much in a hurry." Three ladies--two young and one middle-aged--entered the churchyard. The taller of the two girls left the path, and ran to a tomb inclosed with low iron railings. She carried a whole armful of spring flowers, gathered in the meadows and copses _en route_, bluebells and cowslips chiefly, and threw them broadcast on the grave. "Miss Margaret don't forget her feyther," said Hedges. The three, as they passed, nodded smilingly to the two farmers, and went into the church. "May Fisher be allus down at the Estcourts", said Ruck. "S'pose her finds it dull up on the hills with the old man." "Mrs Estcourt looks well," said Hedges. "Warn hur'll marry agen some day. Miss Margaret do dress a bit, you." "Nation gay. Hur be a upstanding girl, that Margaret Estcourt. A' got a thousand pound under the will." "And the Greene Ferne Farm when the widder goes." "Five hundred acres freehold, and them housen in to town." "A' be a featish-looking girl, you." "So be May Fisher; but a' bean't such a queen as Mother. Margaret walks as if the parish belonged to her." "If a' did, her would sell un, and buy a new bonnet. These yer wimmen!" The sound of singing came from the open door under the tower hard by. "Dall'd if it bean't `I will arise.'" "S'pose us had better go in." They walked to the tower-door. It was arched and low--so low that to enter it was necessary to stoop, and inside the pavement was a step beneath the level of the ground. Within stood the font, and by it some forms against the wall, on which the school children left their caps. There was a space behind the first pillar of the side-aisle unoccupied by pews, being dark and not affording a view of the pulpit. Now it was possible to tell the rank of the congregation as they entered, by the length of time each kept his hat on after getting through the door. The shepherd or carter took off his hat the moment he set his hobnailed boot down on the stone flags with a clatter. The wheelwright, who had a little money and a house of his own, wore his hat till he got to the font. So did the ale-house keeper, who had the grace to come to church. So did the small farmers. Ruck, who could write a cheque for a thousand pounds, never removed his till he arrived at the step that led down to the side-aisle. Hedges, who was higher in the rank of society, inasmuch as he had been born in the purple of farming, kept his on till he reached the first pillar. One of the semi-gentlemen-farmers actually walked half-way to his pew-door wearing his hat, though the congregation were standing listening to Jabez and the choir get through the introductory chant.