Last of all comes Mr.
Datchery into a stall, one of a choice empty collection very much
at his service, and glancing about him for Her Royal Highness the
Princess Puffer.
The service is pretty well advanced before Mr. Datchery can discern
Her Royal Highness. But by that time he has made her out, in the
shade. She is behind a pillar, carefully withdrawn from the Choir-
master's view, but regards him with the closest attention. All
unconscious of her presence, he chants and sings. She grins when
he is most musically fervid, and--yes, Mr. Datchery sees her do
it!--shakes her fist at him behind the pillar's friendly shelter.
Mr. Datchery looks again, to convince himself. Yes, again! As
ugly and withered as one of the fantastic carvings on the under
brackets of the stall seats, as malignant as the Evil One, as hard
as the big brass eagle holding the sacred books upon his wings
(and, according to the sculptor's representation of his ferocious
attributes, not at all converted by them), she hugs herself in her
lean arms, and then shakes both fists at the leader of the Choir.
And at that moment, outside the grated door of the Choir, having
eluded the vigilance of Mr. Tope by shifty resources in which he is
an adept, Deputy peeps, sharp-eyed, through the bars, and stares
astounded from the threatener to the threatened.
The service comes to an end, and the servitors disperse to
breakfast.
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