Free Dolores by Ivy Compton-Burnett

latter bent his head with entire remoteness of expression.
    â€œNow, this is what I
like
to see!” exclaimed Mr Blackwood, who was untroubled by exaggerated keenness of perception. “I
like
to see people of different sects mingling together, and associating in a friendly way with one another. It is
my
belief that that is how it was intended to be. I confess that I am a thorough
Wesleyan,
born and bred, myself; but that does not prevent my being able to see, and be
glad
of what is good in other sects. What do you say, doctor?”
    â€œYes—yes, certainly,” said Dr Cassell, in a parenthetical tone, without raising his head.
    â€œYes, yes, that is the attitude,” said Mr Billing, with a quick and rather indistinct utterance, which gave an idea of hurrying that its want of culture might be missed; “that is the attitude we should strive to get at. I trust—I think we are given grounds for hoping—that the day will come when it is the universal attitude. I think—it is thought, you know—that we are to judge that from the prophets.”
    â€œâ€˜If a man hath all things else, and hath not charity,
it profiteth
him nothing,’” said Dr Cassell, with deliberate distinctness and a smile.
    Mr Billing gave the doctor a glance of some esteem, and laughed, saying, “Yes, exactly.” Mr Blackwood, who was addicted to inattentiveness, made no response: and the Reverend Cleveland followed the latter example; an effort to attain an expression of utter disregard resulting in one of the same degree of disgust.
    After a minute’s silence, during which Mr Billing fidgeted amiably, half turning to one and another as though desirous of talk but unprovided with a topic, the door opened to admit the ladies—Mrs Cassell, Mrs Blackwood, and Mrs Hutton; followed by Dolores and the three eldestchildren of Mr and Mrs Blackwood. Behind came Mrs Merton-Vane, the wife of the agent of the local nobleman—a comely, kindly, foolish matron, whose foremost quality was a persistence in appending her husband’s Christian name by a hyphen to his surname, and regarding his post as agent to a nobleman as establishing his own family as noble. She had chosen to sweep alone into the view of Mr Hutton, whose acceptance of dissenting hospitality was her reason for doing the same.
    Mrs Blackwood turned her attention to the introductions to Mr Billing; reserving for him the chief of her cordiality; and looking annoyed by the air assumed towards him by her eldest daughter—a dainty, naughty maiden a little younger than Dolores; who turned away after a careless bow and began to chatter with a favourite’s audacity to the Reverend Cleveland. Herbert, a quiet-mannered youth of seventeen, shook hands, and stood aside talking to Dolores and Bertram. Lettice, a stolid - looking girl with a sweet expression, remained with her eyes fixed on his face, while her mother entered into talk.
    â€œI did so enjoy your sermon on Sunday, Mr Billing, and so did my husband. I was so struck by parts of it, that I came straight home and made some notes of them. You know I sometimes speak myself on these subjects in myhumble way; and I found your sermon was so very suggestive.”
    â€œIndeed, indeed, was that so?” said Mr Billing, jumping slightly in his seat, as was his wont when he was nervous or grateful. “I—I am glad, Mrs Blackwood.”
    â€œHow ve-ry nice for you to hear Mr Bil-ling!” said Mrs Merton-Vane, who had a trick of pronouncing occasional words with a break in the middle, to the accompaniment of an inclination of her head. “How ve-ry nice!”
    â€œYes, indeed it was,” said Mrs Blackwood, in her high - pitched, somewhat strained tones. “We all enjoyed it so very much, did we not, Lettice?”
    â€œYes, indeed we did,” said Lettice. “And I am sure we shall enjoy many others from Mr Billing no less.”
    â€œWell, well, I hope