THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."
Book I
CHAPTER VII. THE CATHEDRAL.

THE next morning was a Sunday morning, a
day when the flaming grocers' shops abdicated.
On that day St. Alans became ecclesiastical, was
given over to a sort of spiritual sense as marked
by chapters, and deans, and canons, and became
wholly cathedral. The shops were closed, the
White Hart languished. Nature streamed by
various alleys to the cathedral. Of this morning,
when Mr. Tillotson turned away from his bed-
stead—which seemed to nod awfully as the
room shook—and looked out of window, it was a
bright day, and the street seemed gay enough.
On a "dead" door—for there are dead doors as
well as walls—he saw some posters with a bold
notice about a Neglected Mariners' Aid Society,
for whose exhausted funds the dean, Doctor
Ridley, the brother to Lord Rooksby, was to
appeal at the cathedral.

Before he had done breakfast, Mr. Tilney had
walked in, with his stick. "Looked in early,"
said he. "Knew you were an early riser, by
instinct. Have always been one myself, and
so, suppose, shall be, sir, until they carry old
Dick Tilney over yonder, and put him to bed."
He made a flourish with his stick towards the
quarter of the compass where the cathedral lay.
"We are deadly lively to-day, though. Little
to be done. No business, of course. And yet,
what can you say? One day in the week only, to
the Creator. When you come to think of it,"
said Mr. Tilney, apologising for the Sunday,
"it's not so much. I don't grudge it. By the
way, Ridley preaches to-day—Lord Rooksby's
brother, you know—poor drawler, between
you and me. God bless me, when I think of
the Chapel Royal, with Lord Henry Grey, who
was dean, and I sitting on the bench with the
Dook—as near as I am to you—ah, that was
something like a service! Between you and me,
this is a hole-and-corner of a place, religion and
everything."

"You spoke rather favourably of it last night,"
said Mr. Tillotson.

"Perhaps I did," said the other— "most
likely I did. It's an ill bird, you know—I was not
then speaking with you in confidence, you know.
But it is a frightful place for a man that knows
better. The men are dreadful 'cads,' and only
for the poor girls, whom I am sparing no expense
to polish, I'd cut and run to-morrow. It's not
fit for a gentleman to live in."

"Wouldn't you take something?" said Mr.
Tillotson, looking at the breakfast-things.

"No. Oh," said Mr. Tilney, irresolutely, "it
would be far too early. No, no—better not."
(This was a sort of ellipsis, the omitted part
referring to brown sherry.) "Now let us go."

He put his arm through Mr. Tillotson's, and
led him down the streets. They got to the
common, and there, by daylight and by sunlight,
Mr. Tillotson saw the long and uneven row
of detached houses, each a bit of architecture
in its way, where the finer ecclesiastical
society had dwelt splendidly a hundred years
ago. They did well enough now for small
canons. On the other side was the great
cathedral, to which lines of people were
converging across the common like the lines on an
English flag.

"We'll call at the house," said Mr. Tilney,
knowingly, "and we can all go together, you
know. Do you know, I like this worshipping of
our Maker in common," he added, taking the
horizon in with a flourish; "it makes me feel
like—the Vicar of Wakefield. One day in the
week is all that is asked from us—not more—
and it ain't much, Tillotson." These remarks
were again all made as if Mr. Tillotson were
urging the abrogation of the Sabbath. "Here
is the house. Here we are."

It would seem that one of "the girls'" duties
was to take life generally in "parties," and to
"make up parties" for such things. Nothing
could be enjoyed heartily without some
combination; if a military one, all the happier.
Thus the cathedral service became subject to the
same law, and Messrs. Still and Spring of the
garrison had been pressed and enjoined, and
almost compelled, to perform their Sunday
worship under these conditions. These gentlemen
were already in attendance. Younghusband,
as his friends said, without any reserve, had
"fought shy."

The "girls" were in their sacred toilette, the
most effective and splendid of their whole series.
For the others might be addressed to concert