The very first Sunday afternoon, whilst we were still in the midst of a chaos of chips and big boxes and straw and empty china-barrels, our own shepherds came over, by invitation, and the only very near neighbours we had--a Scotch head-shepherd and his charming young wife,--and we held a Service in the half-furnished drawing room.

After it was ended we had a long talk with the men, and they confessed that they had enjoyed it very much, and would like to come regularly.

When questioned as to the feasibility of inducing others to join, they said that it might be suggested to more than one distant, lonely hill-shepherd, but his uncontrollable shyness would probably prevent his attendance.
"Jim Salter, and Joe Bennett, and a lot more on 'em, would be glad enow to come, if so be they could feel as how they was truly wellcombe," said our shepherd, Pepper, who prided himself on the elegance and correctness of his phraseology.

He added, after a reflective pause, turning bashfully away, "If so be as the lady would just look round and give 'em a call, they'd be to be persuaded belike." So the scheme was Pepper's after all, you see.

But this "looking round," to which he alluded so airily, meant scrambling rides, varying from ten to twenty-eight miles in length, over break-neck country, and this on the slender chance of finding the men in-doors.