For the sake of his peace of mind, let us hope that Ruddington is Low Church. If he isn’t, Susan will soon be on his nerves. There’s precious little kneeling down and standing up at the Sainte Véronique parish Mass; but this morning I had to prod or pluck at Susan half a dozen times. When we came out she made wistful comparisons with Traxelby, and declared that she did so miss "a nice service." Perhaps Ruddington is neither Low nor High. He says that one of the times when he saw Susan was in church. But Traxelby isn’t his parish: so he must have been hunting Susan, not saving his soul. I’ve given up wrestling with the _Chouans_. I’d forgotten the early part was so dry. Besides, it’s nicer to potter about, and think and dream, not to mention that novel-reading is wicked on a Sunday. _Monday morning_. Susan has been difficult again. I’m sorry for her. Last night she suddenly developed the liveliest interest in dress. In the past she hasn’t been a girl to care excessively about it. That’s why she has always looked so nice. But, last night, she said: "I’ve been thinking, Miss, what ought I to wear the first time I go to see him?" "You mean, Susan," I answered, "what ought you to wear the first time he comes to see _you_." "Yes, Miss," said Susan absently. "I was thinking it would be nice if I had one of those cherry-coloured zephyrs, with elbow sleeves and a white sash." I smiled. "Do you think you can depend on yourself not to blush, Susan," I asked, "when he looks at you and speaks to you?" "Oh no, Miss, I can’t," answered Susan in a panic. "I shall be sitting, all the time, wanting the ground to open and swallow me." "Then I don’t think you should go in for anything cherry-coloured," I suggested. And I tried to go on with _Les Chouans_. "Perhaps blue alpaca would be better, Miss," broke out Susan again, after long reflection. "Blue alpaca, made plain, with a little train. I could wear that lace collar you gave me, Miss, and have my hair done more on the top of my head." "You’d look very nice, I’m sure, Susan," I replied. "But, if I were you, I shouldn’t do anything of the kind. I suppose it will be at the Grange that you’ll see him first. Some arrangement will have to be made. If so, it ought to please him best to see you as he saw you at Traxelby church." I went on again with _Les Chouans_. Or, to be strictly truthful, I fixed my eyes again on the page. "I beg your pardon, Miss," Susan began humbly, after five minutes of quiet; "but shall we be married in Traxelby church?"