She was never in time for anything, "Last bell ringing," said Mr.Leslie, who, though a slow man, was methodical and punctual.

Mrs.Leslie made a frantic rush at the door, the Montfydget blood being now in a blaze, dashed up the stairs, burst into her room, tore her best bonnet from the peg, snatched her newest shawl from the drawers, crushed the bonnet on her head, flung the shawl on her shoulders, thrust a desperate pin into its folds, in order to conceal a buttonless yawn in the body of her gown, and then flew back like a whirlwind.

Meanwhile the family were already out of doors, in waiting; and just as the bell ceased, the procession moved from the shabby house to the dilapidated church.
The church was a large one, but the congregation was small, and so was the income of the parson.

It was a lay rectory, and the great tithes had belonged to the Leslies, but they had been long since sold.

The vicarage, still in their gift, might be worth a little more than L100 a year.