His eyes were shut, but he was smiling very broadly with tight lips, and his face was turned towards the ceiling.

His fingers were very tense and busy on his lap, as though he were still fidgeting with magic.

But her study of him was interrupted by the loud denouncing voice of the very venerable man who had led the procession of late-comers.
"A dog in this hallowed place," he said, pointing at the deeply disconcerted Rupert who was weaving himself nervously in and out of his master's legs.

"Never in all the forty years of my ministration here have I allowed such an outrage----" "Gently, gently, my dear sir," protested the Vicar, a little roused.

"I am the minister of this church, and the dog is mine.