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Taft was still smiling too, as if his smile were almost fixed on his face. Scuff had seen expressions like that before, on the riverbank, when people were trying to sell you something.
“I hope you will feel uplifted by our service, Mrs. Monk,” Taft said warmly. “And please feel free to ask any questions you care to. I shall hope to see you often and perhaps get to know you a little better. You will find the entire congregation friendly. We have some very fine people here.”
“I am sure,” Hester agreed. “I have already heard so from others.”
“Indeed?” Taft had started to move away but stopped, his attention suddenly renewed. “May I ask whom?”
Hester lowered her eyes. “I think it might embarrass them if I were to say,” she replied modestly. “But it was most sincere, I assure you. I know, at least, that you do a great deal of truly Christian work for those who are not nearly as fortunate as we are.”
“Indeed we do,” he said eagerly. “I am delighted to see that you are interested. I shall look forward to telling you more after the service.”
She looked up at him very directly. “Thank you.”
Scuff regarded her with confusion. He had never seen her behave like this before. Of course, lots of women looked at men like that-but not Hester! What was wrong with her? He did not like the change in her. She had been perfect just as she was.
Hester led him toward a couple of seats near the back of the hall, and they took the rather squashed places as other people moved along a bit to make room. There were certainly far more people present than he had imagined would want to be here. What was going to happen that was worth all this jostling and shoving, not to mention dressing up and wasting a perfectly good Sunday morning? The sun was shining outside, and hardly anybody had to go to work!
He started to pay attention when the service began. Mr. Taft was in charge, telling everybody when to stand, when to sing, and saying prayers on everyone else’s behalf. All they had to do was add “Amen” at the end. He seemed to be full of enthusiasm, as if it were all rather exciting. He waved his arms about a bit, and his face was alight. It was a bit like it was his birthday party and all of them his guests. Scuff had seen a party once for a rich boy whose parents had hired a pleasure boat. There were colored ribbons everywhere and a band playing music. It had stopped at one of the docks and Scuff had crept close enough to watch.
There was music here in this church as well, a big organ playing, and everybody sang. They seemed to know the words. Even Hester did not have to do more than glance at the hymnbook that she held open so he could see it as well. But he had never heard the tune before and got lost very quickly.
Hester gave him a little nudge now and then, or put her hand gently on his arm, to warn him they were about to stand up or sit down again. He noticed that she looked around rather a lot. He thought she was watching to see what they were doing, so she could copy them. Then he realized she knew what to do; she just seemed to be interested, almost as if she were looking for someone in particular.
When it was finished and Scuff assumed they were free to go home again, Hester started speaking to the people around them. That was a bit of a blow, but there was nothing he could do except wait patiently. On the way home he would ask her what it was all for. Why did God want what seemed to be such a pointless exercise? Was the real reason something else altogether, like maybe to keep them all from going out and getting drunk, or to make sure they didn’t just lie around in bed all day? He used to know people who did that.
Hester was talking to Mrs. Taft, who was a very pretty lady, in a fair-haired, soft-blue-eyed sort of way. Scuff had seen a little china statue of a lady like that and been told not to touch it because he might break it.
“It is a marvelous work,” Hester was saying enthusiastically.
Scuff tried to listen. If she cared about all this, there had to be a reason, and he should pay attention too.
“Indeed it is,” Mrs. Taft agreed with a sweet smile. “And we find so much support, it is most heartening. You would be amazed how much even the poorest people manage to give. Surely God will bless them for it. They will have joy in heaven.” She looked as if she really meant it. Her eyes were shining, and there was a faint flush of pink in her cheeks. She wore a lovely hat decked with flowers in all sorts of colors. Scuff knew they weren’t real, but they almost looked it. Hester would look prettier than this woman in a hat like that, but it probably cost more than a week of dinners for all of them.
“Do you not worry about them though?” Hester asked anxiously.
Mrs. Taft looked puzzled.
“What will happen to them, between here and heaven, I mean,” Hester added in explanation.
“God will take care of them,” Mrs. Taft replied with gentle reproof.
Hester bit her lip. Scuff had seen that expression before. He knew she wanted to say something but had decided against it.
They were joined by two girls, a few years older than Scuff and looking a lot like grown-ups already, proper ladies’ shapes, their hair in ringlets, and straw hats with ribbons on their heads. They were introduced as Mrs. Taft’s daughters, Jane and Amelia. The conversation continued about generous donations to the wonderful work the church was doing for the unfortunate, especially in some distant and unnamed part of the world.
Scuff was extremely bored and his attention wandered again, this time toward some of the other members of the congregation. A lot of the women were older than Hester and rather fat. Those closest to him creaked a little when they moved, like the timbers of a ship on the tide. They looked unhappy. He supposed they might be late for luncheon and resented being kept in pointless conversations. He sympathized with them. He was hungry too-and tired of this. One of them caught his eye, and he smiled at her tentatively. She smiled back at him, th
en her husband glared at her and she stopped instantly.
Why was Hester still here? She didn’t know these people, and she certainly wasn’t talking to God, or listening to him. Yet she still looked very interested.
She looked even more interested when she was introduced to a good-looking man with thick, dark hair and a rather prominent nose. His name was apparently Robertson Drew, and he spoke to Hester in a condescending manner. His glance took in her costume and her new hat, and then her reticule and the fact that her boots were a little worn at the toes.
Scuff disliked him immediately.
“How do you do, Mrs. Monk?” Drew said with a smile that barely showed his teeth. “Welcome to our congregation. I hope you will join us regularly. And this is your son?” He looked momentarily at Scuff and then back to Hester. “Perhaps your husband will be able to be with us in future?”
Scuff thought the likelihood of that was about the same as the chances of finding a gold sovereign in the drain.
