The Argosy — page 380: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

362 The Village Blacksmith. her opinion on what she saw, aloud, for the benefit of the de- corators. About half-a-dozen girls and some children were very busy twining garlands of flowers round the pillars; Mr. Ryot Tempest was nailing a text over the Communion-table ; two ladies were trimming up the font ; and another lady in widow’s mourning, whom Norab knew to be Mrs, Jamieson, was sitting on a front bench looking on with an air of interest. ‘© Well, Tam sure! one fool makes many. Turning a church into a ball-room because the parson is marrying a second time! The font, too! Law, they won’t want that, I should think! [’d have let that alone for decency’s sake if I had been any of them. Humph! Pretty goings on indeed. I wonder if there'll be a sane person left in the parish to-morrow ?” As Mrs. Canter gave vent to these sentiments, she was walking up the aisle looking about her in all directions and giving her head a series of scornful little tosses which jerked her crape veil about in a comical fashion. Mrs. Jamieson looked round and wondered who this portly widow with so little regard for propriety could be ; though as Mrs. Canter’s fame had reached her ears, she shrewdly expected it was no less a person. Her behaviour was so strange that she decided to anticipate the office of rectoress by a few hours and administer a gentle reproof. ‘* My good woman, do you know this is a church P” she said in a low voice as she rose and went towards Mrs. Canter. To be sure I do; I am not blind. I have come to speak to Mr. Tempest, if he don’t tip up that table he is standing on and break his neck before I reach him.” ‘‘ The altar, you mean,” said Mrs. Jamieson, with a pious shudder at such irreverence. ‘No, I don’t, ma’am. A spade is a spade, not a spoon, and a table is a table, not an altar; and that is nothing but a common deal table on four legs, for I covered it myself with red velvet, silk face and cotton back,” replied Mrs. Canter aloud. Any further revelations with regard to the table Mrs. Canter might have made were cut short by Mrs. Jamieson, who, secretly amused at her originality, was nevertheless anxious to get her out of the church and the hearing of the decorators before she gave any more scandal by her criticisms of their work. ‘Suppose you come into the porch and tell me what you want,” suggested Mrs. Jamieson in a low voice. ‘Certainly, ma’am.” And the two widows made for the porch, Mrs. Jamieson swimming gracefully down the aisle, her silk and crape rustling gently as she went, Mrs. Canter marching behind her in loud creaking boots. A_ striking contrast they made, though both were fine women, At the font Mrs. Jamieson paused, and suggested that as the occasion was a wedding, to decorate the COMM @ LDOOKS CO