And when Christmas Eve came, and Leek had wheeled up the holly, and we were all in the cold church (not I think that any of us cared whether it was cold or warm), we enjoyed the work amazingly, and decided that old Bumford should never be let do it again, gout or no gout.
Jessy Page was a picture to look at. The two elder ladies had on tight dark cloth dresses, like a riding-habit cut short, at the ankles: Jessy was in a bright blue mantle edged with swans-down, and a blue bonnet on her pretty head. She came in a little late, and Miss Susan blew her up sharply, for putting on that "best Sunday cape" to dress a church in: but Jessy only laughed good-naturedly, and answered that she would take care not to harm it. Susan Page, trimming the branches, had seen John Drench's eyes fixed on the girl: and her knife worked away like mad in her vexation.
"Look here," said Jessy: "we have never had any Christmas over the pulpit; I think old Bumford was afraid to get up to do it; let us put some. It would hide that ugly nail in the wall."
"There are no holes up in the wall," snapped Miss Susan.
"I meant a large bunch; a bunch of holly and ivy mixed, Susan. John Drench could tie it to the nail: it would look well."
"I'll do it, too," said John. "I've some string in my pocket. The parson won't know himself. It will be as good as a canopy over him."
Miss Page turned round: she and Charley had their arms full of the branches we had been cutting.
"Put a bunch there, if you like, but let us finish the pews first," she said. "If we go from one thing to another we shall not finish while it's daylight."
It was good sense: she rarely spoke anything else. Once let darkness overtake us, and the dressing would be done for. The church knew nothing about evening service, and had never felt the want of means to light itself up.
"I shall pick out the best sprays in readiness," whispered Jessy to me, as we sat together on the bench by the big christening bowl, she choosing branches, I trimming them. "Look at this one! you could not count the berries on it."
"Did you enjoy your visit to Aberystwith, Jessy?"
I wondered what there was in my simple question to move her. The branch of holly went anywhere; her hands met in a silent clasp; the expression of her face changed to one of curious happiness. In answering, her voice fell to a whisper.