Her remark about
the Collection was more vital than the other. Collections in church
were made, they believed, to "feed the clergyman." And Sunday was the
clergyman's day.
"I've got sixpence," Tim hastened to remind everybody. "I've got a
threepenny bit as well."
"It's sixpence to-day, I think," Judy decided almost tenderly. Behind
her thought was a caring, generous impulse; the motherly instinct sent
her mind to the collection for the clergyman's comfort. But romance
stirred too; she wanted to look her best. Her two main tendencies
seemed very much alive this Sunday morning. The hat and the sixpence--
both were real.
Maria, as usual, had little or nothing to say. She spoke once,
however.
"I dreamed," she informed the company. She did not look up, keeping
her head bent over the bread and marmalade upon her plate; her blue
eyes rolled round the table once, then dropped again. No one asked for
details of her dream, she had no desire to supply them. She announced
her position comfortably, as it were, set herself right with life, and
quietly went on with the business of the moment, which was bread and
marmalade.
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