thankful that her husband had not felt the call to serve in a slum parish or on a new housing estate. Life in a Mayfair rectory suited her very well and she had private means. It had always seemed so hard, that saying about the rich man and the kingdom of heaven.
'I suppose St Basil's is a poor parish?' Randolph asked in an almost hopeful tone.
'Yes,' said Ianthe. 'The congregation tends to be a poor one and there are quite a number of coloured people living in the district.'
Randolph sighed. 'If only I had that opportunity—such a rewarding experience working among people of that type.'
'But they are much more naturally religious than we are,' said Ianthe. 'It is the white people who are the heathen.'
'No, dear, you must be mistaken,' said Bertha in a pained tone.
'Ah well, it was not meant that I should work in such a parish,' said Randolph. 'Bertha's health wouldn't have stood any district but W1 or SW1. Anything near the Harrow Road, or the canal, or Kensal Green cemetery had to be avoided at all costs. My particular cross is to be a "fashionable preacher", as they say. Bertha is quite right when she says that somebody must minister to the rich.'
'Of course,' said Ianthe. 'And you have some very nice people in your congregation,' she added consolingly.
'Yes, both my church wardens are titled men,' said Randolph simply. He stood with the carving implements poised over the ruined saddle. 'Let me give you some more mutton, my dear.'
'No, thank you, uncle—I've had plenty.'
'You aren't a great meat-eater, are you, dear,' said Bertha, 'so the approach of Lent won't be so much of a hardship for you.'
Ianthe murmured noncommitally.
'I have to eat meat, unfortunately—doctor's orders,' Bertha went on. 'He has forbidden me to fast or even keep the days of abstinence. "You are not to think of making do with a collation on Ash Wednesday", he said to me. "You must have a full meal with meat ".'
'I don't think it does one any harm to fast a little—if one is in good health,' Ianthe added hastily.
'I hope you will savour the Lenten fare, as I call it, that is being offered in this church,' said Randolph. 'We're trying lunch hour services with a short address this year. They have them at St Ermin's, of course, and I know Ossie Thames used to get quite a lot of office workers when he had them at St Luke's. I've got quite an interesting lot of preachers.'
Ianthe said she would try to come, though it seemed as if Wednesdays in Lent were going to be almost too devotional with her uncle's course of sermons at St Basil's in the evenings. She felt she would have to attend those.
'Try and bring some of your fellow workers with you,' said Randolph.
'Yes, perhaps I will,' said Ianthe.
When Ash Wednesday arrived, however, she found herself going alone to the service. She knew that Mervyn Cantrell was an agnostic, though on this particular day, as he pointed out to her, his packed lunch consisted of tuna fish sandwiches and hard boiled eggs in deference, as it were, to the beliefs of others. Ianthe did not think of asking John to accompany her, because it was difficult to imagine him in a church. Then, too, she had felt rather shy of him since Christmas when he had given her the violets and had tried not to encourage his obvious interest in her. She often found herself making excuses to avoid him though in some ways she was interested in him, even attracted to him. But he was younger than she was and so very much not the type of person she was used to meeting. Ianthe was not as yet bold enough to break away from her upbringing and background, and while she did not often think of herself as marrying now, she still hoped, perhaps even expected, that somebody 'suitable' would turn up one day. Somebody who combined the qualities of Rupert and John, if such a person could be imagined.
Today John had gone out to lunch before her and she ate her sandwiches quickly, then started out on the brisk quarter of an hour's walk to her
'I suppose St Basil's is a poor parish?' Randolph asked in an almost hopeful tone.
'Yes,' said Ianthe. 'The congregation tends to be a poor one and there are quite a number of coloured people living in the district.'
Randolph sighed. 'If only I had that opportunity—such a rewarding experience working among people of that type.'
'But they are much more naturally religious than we are,' said Ianthe. 'It is the white people who are the heathen.'
'No, dear, you must be mistaken,' said Bertha in a pained tone.
'Ah well, it was not meant that I should work in such a parish,' said Randolph. 'Bertha's health wouldn't have stood any district but W1 or SW1. Anything near the Harrow Road, or the canal, or Kensal Green cemetery had to be avoided at all costs. My particular cross is to be a "fashionable preacher", as they say. Bertha is quite right when she says that somebody must minister to the rich.'
'Of course,' said Ianthe. 'And you have some very nice people in your congregation,' she added consolingly.
'Yes, both my church wardens are titled men,' said Randolph simply. He stood with the carving implements poised over the ruined saddle. 'Let me give you some more mutton, my dear.'
'No, thank you, uncle—I've had plenty.'
'You aren't a great meat-eater, are you, dear,' said Bertha, 'so the approach of Lent won't be so much of a hardship for you.'
Ianthe murmured noncommitally.
'I have to eat meat, unfortunately—doctor's orders,' Bertha went on. 'He has forbidden me to fast or even keep the days of abstinence. "You are not to think of making do with a collation on Ash Wednesday", he said to me. "You must have a full meal with meat ".'
'I don't think it does one any harm to fast a little—if one is in good health,' Ianthe added hastily.
'I hope you will savour the Lenten fare, as I call it, that is being offered in this church,' said Randolph. 'We're trying lunch hour services with a short address this year. They have them at St Ermin's, of course, and I know Ossie Thames used to get quite a lot of office workers when he had them at St Luke's. I've got quite an interesting lot of preachers.'
Ianthe said she would try to come, though it seemed as if Wednesdays in Lent were going to be almost too devotional with her uncle's course of sermons at St Basil's in the evenings. She felt she would have to attend those.
'Try and bring some of your fellow workers with you,' said Randolph.
'Yes, perhaps I will,' said Ianthe.
When Ash Wednesday arrived, however, she found herself going alone to the service. She knew that Mervyn Cantrell was an agnostic, though on this particular day, as he pointed out to her, his packed lunch consisted of tuna fish sandwiches and hard boiled eggs in deference, as it were, to the beliefs of others. Ianthe did not think of asking John to accompany her, because it was difficult to imagine him in a church. Then, too, she had felt rather shy of him since Christmas when he had given her the violets and had tried not to encourage his obvious interest in her. She often found herself making excuses to avoid him though in some ways she was interested in him, even attracted to him. But he was younger than she was and so very much not the type of person she was used to meeting. Ianthe was not as yet bold enough to break away from her upbringing and background, and while she did not often think of herself as marrying now, she still hoped, perhaps even expected, that somebody 'suitable' would turn up one day. Somebody who combined the qualities of Rupert and John, if such a person could be imagined.
Today John had gone out to lunch before her and she ate her sandwiches quickly, then started out on the brisk quarter of an hour's walk to her
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