Chapter VII: James and Peter attend Church

Sunday.

Old John, Granny, Mrs. Dashwood and the girls had accepted an invitation to tea and to spend the evening in the suburbs. James and Peter were alone at the hotel. They moped about all the afternoon, and time hung heavily on their hands. After tea they retired to their room and moped more. For want of something better to do James turned his pockets out and counted his money.

“That’s all I’ve got left of my lot,” he said, producing a half sovereign and two sixpenny pieces.

Peter chuckled and said it was more than he had. “I’ve none at all,” he added, “unless I can get some more out of father!”

James doubted Peter’s chances of raising any more funds from his parent, giving as a reason, that “father was buying a traction engine to-morrow!”

“Well, lend us five bob of yours?” Peter said.

James smiled and returned the money to his pocket James had lent Peter “five bob” before.

They lay across their beds and stared at the ceiling. After a while James said:

“Suppose we go to church somewhere?”

“Anywhere you like,” Peter answered, with a chuckle, and off they went.

Out in the street James paused and said:

“Well, where are we going—to what church?”

“The Scotch church,” Peter answered. Peter had an idea that the Scotch church was better than other churches. Peter held curious ideas about churches.

“Well, it’s down this street and up the next,” James said, leading the way.

“Are you going to walk there?” Peter asked in surprise.

“And back, too,” James answered, “unless you’re going to pay for the tram.”

Peter laughed. He also walked.

Presently they were approaching the sacred edifice. They could see the lights in every window. The bell was tolling in their ears.

At the large gates guarding the entrance they paused a while and held a silent consultation.

“Well, what do you think?” James said. James’s spiritual courage was dwindling.

Peter glanced at the imposing-looking building and chuckled. “I dunno,” he answered, “perhaps we had better let it rip and come some other evening.”

James glanced wonderingly toward the open door, then up at the sky to see if there was any signs of rain. But it was a bright night, without a cloud in sight.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled doubtfully, “perhaps we had better go in now that we’ve come so far.”

The last of the congregation passed in.

James and Peter sauntered closer to the door. They posted themselves, one each side it, and took observations. They could see the interior of the building ablaze with light. They could see the draped pulpit. They could see the great organ. They could see a sea of heads packed together, like sheep in a yard.

The last bell rang dolefully.

“Well,” James whispered, “what do y’ think?”

Peter thought the place was full.

James said he could see an empty seat “on the right.”

There was a brief silence.

“Well, you go first,” Peter suggested, “and I’ll follow. Ha! ha!”

“_Sh-h-h!_” from James. Peter’s mirth sounded like sacrilege to James.

Peter craned his neck to locate the empty seat that James had in view.

He drew back and said he “couldn’t see it,” but he “could see a Chinaman.”

James shook his fist threateningly at Peter.

“Well, go on,” Peter said, with a grin.

James almost took a step forward, but halted in the middle of it. Peter stifled a laugh. James scowled at him.

The organ started to play low and soft. James glanced wistfully back at the street, but only moths and night flies, fluttering round a dim gas-lamp, were there. Then he glanced interrogatingly at Peter. Peter glanced at James.

Suddenly the organ burst into loud thundering peals that startled them.

James couldn’t stand any more. He gripped his hat firmly in his fist and took the fatal step. In long, quick strides he set out for that empty seat. Peter started after him, taking even larger strides and tramping on James’s heels, and attracting the attention of the congregation Peter thought James would never arrive at that empty seat. It seemed more than a mile away. But James reached it at last and dropped with all his weight into it. Peter dropped on James. It was a swell seat, too—covered with a luxurious cushion. They both breathed hard, and stared silently and strangely about. On a card let into the cedar panel before them was the name of the Premier of the State. Their eyes rested on the name, then they looked meaningly at each other and thought hard. An ugly suspicion that they were trespassing crept all over them and made them go cold.

Several moments of heavy suspense passed. Then a venerable churchwarden glided down the aisle and hovered over them. His long, grey whiskers fell about their necks. They both thought their hour had come. The ancient warden whispered things to them through his hands, and pointed with his thumb to the rear of the church. But he might as well have talked to them on his fingers. They didn’t understand.

At last he gave them up and retired to consult with a brother official.

A broad man with a red face and a double chin and a heavy gold chain linked across his stomach, carrying a kid glove and a walking stick in his hand, closely followed by a tall lady, covered with finery and perfume, paused at the seat James and Peter had “jumped,” and glared at them. It was a trying moment for James and Peter. They “shoved up,” and crouched together till they resembled compressed fodder. The lady clutched her skirts in her hand and hesitatingly sat down beside Peter. The burly Premier, glaring at the occupants of his “reserved” seat, sat with a series of grunts.

The lady opened a large fan and talked behind the battlements of it to her Premier husband.

James and Peter heard her say: “Outrageous!” and “all sorts of people!” and it made them feel faint.

A moment later the parson appeared, and the service commenced. It commenced with a hymn. The congregation stood to it. So did James and Peter—stood like fools, for they were unprovided with “hymnaries.” Not that this made any difference to the singing. But in the absence of “Sankey” they felt that the eyes of the congregation were all upon them. Suddenly the gloved hand of a lady in the seat behind thrust an open book under their nose. Her thoughtfulness went near to ending their lives. That all the eyes of the congregation _were_ upon them now they had no doubt. Peter wished James had been seized with appendicitis before he started to induce him to go to that church. James mechanically reached for the book, and holding it upside down, nudged Peter to join with him in song. Peter responded in a series of hysterical laughs, which were drowned by the voices around him. All the same that hymn-book helped them on a long way. It made them feel a little at home, and more like the rest of the congregation.

* * * * *

The parson rose and preached his sermon. It must have been a good sermon. No one disagreed with it. There was not a solitary dissenting voice. When he concluded his “third part” and sat down, a mild commotion set in away at the rear of the church. Several church officials left their places and moved about the aisles. The organ played again. James and Peter wondered what was going to happen. A coin dropped on the floor and rolled round on a solemn excursion of its own. Some more started to jingle in a plate; then they fell thicker and thicker. A collection! Peter’s heart gave a jump. He became uneasy. The Premier’s wife took out a purse and rattled the contents. Peter remembered seeing “escape door” printed up on the walls of the theatre. He looked round to see if there was one in the church. There wasn’t. By the ring of the silver Peter knew the plate was coming nearer and nearer. He began to perspire. James dug his hand down into his trouser pockets. Peter glanced pleadingly at him.

“I’ve two sixpences,” James whispered, and pressed his hand against Peter’s. Peter clutched at the proffered coin and nearly took a joint of one of James’s fingers with it.

The plate arrived. Peter planked his piece on top of the pile. It gave the man behind the plate a surprise. It gave Peter one, too; and it nearly took James’s breath away. It was a gold-piece—James’s only _half sovereign_.

The Premier and his wife seemed to take a different view of Peter. They looked as though they would be pleased to know him. Peter, himself, suddenly felt on an equality with them. He sat up straight, and his eyes gleamed with the light and consciousness of wealth and philanthropy. But James felt different to Peter. A heavy, sinking feeling seemed to come over him. His teeth rattled, and he dug his finger nails into Peter’s thigh. But Peter only listened to the organ.

The benediction pronounced, and the congregation rose and started to file out. James and Peter were almost last to leave.

At the door the man who took up the collection was waiting with beaming countenance. He shook hands with Peter, and enquired if he was a stranger. Peter said he was, and told him where he came from. The churchman said nothing to James.

He shook hands with Peter again, and hoped to see him become a regular attendant at the services. Peter smiled and hurried after James. They passed out the gate and walked through the streets for about a mile before James spoke.

At last he looked at Peter, and said:

“Of course I only lent you that half sovereign, remember!”

“Hah! hah! hah! Hah! hah! hah-h-h!” came loudly from Peter. And a solitary policeman standing on the opposite side of the street stared wonderingly across.