38 



CHAPTER III. 



The next day snow is on the ground. It is Christmas 

 morning, and the majority of the party determine 

 to walk to church and brave the elements. The 

 Squire, for so Sir John is called, makes a point of 

 going to church with the party every Christmas day, 

 and his old pew is well filled. A picturesque sight 

 presents itself as they near the village church, nestling 

 amongst the high trees, whose slender boughs are 

 covered with a slight coating of snow. The bells are ring- 

 ing out their merry chimes, and the peasantry, dressed in 

 their best attire, are wending their way to the old church. 

 Within a beautiful sight unfolds itself, for tender hands 

 have been busily engaged for days past adorning the 

 interior of this edifice with Christmas decorations ; even 

 the statue of Sir Hugh Flambers, that projects boldly 

 from the chancel wall, has lost a good deal of its severity 

 by the exquisite designs arranged around it. The sun is 

 straggling through the stained glass windows, gilding 

 with its ruddy light the polished oak pews. The village 

 choir, although not dressed in surplices as in the present 

 day, are clattering noisily into the gallery, and the 

 service is about to begin. The Squire throws a cursory 

 glance round the church, for he always encourages as 

 large an attendance on Christmas morn as possible. 



It is not an unusual thing for many of the congregation 

 to sleep during the sermon, which is, perhaps, rather 



