"When you feel
as if you want a good kiss, come to my house," said his mother, her blue
eyes shining tenderly. "It must be dreadful to miss little children when
you have lived with them. I could not bear it. Abbotsmead always looks
to me like a great dull splendid prison."
"My grandfather makes it as pleasant to me as he can; I don't repine,"
said Bessie quickly. "He has given me a beautiful little filly to ride,
but she is not quite trained yet; and I shall beg him to let me have a
companionable dog; I love a dog."
The church-bells began to ring for afternoon service. Mrs. Stokes shook
her head at Bessie's query: nobody ever went, she said, but servants and
poor people. Evening service there was none, and Mr. Forbes dined with
the squire; that also was an institution. The gentlemen talked of
parochial matters, and Bessie, wisely inferring that they could talk
more freely in her absence, left them to themselves and retreated to her
private parlor, to read a little and dream a great deal of her friends
in the Forest.
At dusk there was a loud jangling indoors and out, and Mrs. Betts
summoned her young lady down stairs. She met her grandfather and Mr.
Forbes issuing from the dining-room, and they passed together into the
hall, where the servants of the house stood on parade to receive their
pastor and master. They were assembled for prayers. Once a week, after
supper, this compliment was paid to the Almighty--a remnant of ancient
custom which the squire refused to alter or amend.
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