It was Easter Sunday.

The vicar of the little parish of Steynton, just outside Maidstone, was away for his holidays, and the Rev.
Samuel Bishop had taken his place as _locum tenens_.
In the small church where the parishioners met every Sunday, it had been the custom for some time past for an earnest and well-known member of the congregation, who had an appreciation for the sound of his own voice, to read the lessons at Matins and at Evensong.

This duty, combined with that of warden, was fulfilled by Mr.Windle, an ardent church-goer, a staunch, if somewhat narrow-visioned Christian, and a man rigid in his adherence to the cause of total abstinence.
Before morning service on this Easter Sunday, he met the Rev.Samuel Bishop in the vestry.

The organist had already gone to his seat behind the chancel.

The first preliminary notes of the voluntary--weak and uncertain, because the organ-blower had come late and as yet there was not sufficient wind in the bellows--were beginning to sound through the building.