Brent had been saying to herself inwardly:
"She has not much heart after all, you know." Now she looked at her in
amazement.
The blue bells were under water in truth--drenched and drowned. And yet
as the girl stood up before her, she looked taller--more the magnificent
Miss Vanderpoel than ever--though she expressed a new meaning.
"There is one thing the villagers can do for him," she said. "One thing
we can all do. The bell has not tolled yet. There is a service for those
who are--in peril. If the vicar will call the people to the church, we
can all kneel down there--and ask to be heard. The vicar will do that I
am sure--and the people will join him with all their hearts."
Mrs. Brent was overwhelmed.
"Dear, dear, Miss Vanderpoel!" she exclaimed. "THAT is touching, indeed
it is! And so right and so proper. I will drive back to the village at
once. The vicar's distress is as great as mine. You think of everything.
The service for the sick and dying. How right--how right!"
With a sense of an increase of value in herself, the vicar, and the
vicarage, she hastened back to the pony carriage, but in the hall she
seized Betty's hand emotionally.
"I cannot tell you how much I am touched by this," she murmured.
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