The Feast by Margaret Kennedy

that little pill box full of powdered glass was such a relief to possess. They said it could never be detected in a person’s food. If she were a wicked woman it could free her from this martyrdom. It was a very powerful little treasure, that box. She kissed it sometimes. But if God kept the Canon quiet, then God was really there and she would placate Him by throwing the box into the sea. For He would know all about that box.
     
    When I am confirmed, thought Caroline, I shall be religious. The Bishop will put his hand on my head and the Holy Ghost will go all through me like an electric shock, and I shall be religious. But Hebe will be wishing she was the Bishop.
     
    ‘It is very meet, right, and our bounden du-uty …’ intoned Father Bott.
    The Lord’s Supper! thought Beatrix Cove. I am at the Lord’s Supper with Hebe and all the people. Her heart swelled with ecstasy. She lifted her head and looked at the dazzling candle light, half expecting to see a long table with all the disciples round it and the Divine Presence in the midst. But she only saw Father Bott and Gerry Siddal. It had been so nice when young Mr. Siddal waved the incense at all the people and bowed, and all the people bowed back politely. These gracious courtesies were the very essence of a Feast. She looked round to see if Blanche was as happy as she was. But Blanche, white and rigid, had tears on her cheeks, not of bliss but of pain. Kneeling had brought on the agonizing ache in her back, and she was entirely concentrated upon enduring it. But she caught her sister’s eye and gave a faint smile.
     
    ‘Evermore praising Thee and sa-a-aying …’
    Duff and Robin fixed their eyes upon their parts in the Sanctus and drew deep breaths.
    ‘Holy! Holy! Holy!’ sang the choir of St. Sody’s.
     
    I became dumb, prayed Christina Paley, and opened not rny mouth. For it was Thy doing…. Hear my prayer Oh Lord, and let Thine ear consider my calling. Hold not Thy peace at my tears. For I am a stranger with Thee and a sojourner, as all my fathers were. Oh spare me a little that I may recover my strength … before I go hence and be no more seen.
     
    Father Bott was speaking in a whisper and when he paused three soft, clear notes from a bell filled up the silence, just before the incredible horror fell upon them. A kind of bellow rose up from the nave. A great voice was howling:
    ‘I denounce this mummery!’
    The shock was so great that everyone recoiled, as though struck. Still upon their knees they turned to see the Canon coming out of his pew.
    ‘This is a Protestant Church …’ he began.
    He was interrupted by an excruciating scream from his daughter. Evangeline’s nerves had snapped. She was not only shrieking, she was banging her Prayer Book on the ledge of the pew.
    ‘No!’ she yelled. ‘No … no … no! I can’t bear it. I can’t … ahoo! Ahoo! Ahoo!’
    This attack from the rear seemed to confuse the Canon. He had meant to march up to the altar and attack Father Bott. But he now turned round and ordered the girl to be quiet. She only screamed louder. He seized her arm and tried to drag her up from her knees whereat she laughed insanely and hit him with her Prayer Book.
    ‘Help me, somebody,’ he said, almost humbly.
    The paralyzed congregation bestirred itself. Bruce and Sir Henry went to help him and between them they carried the laughing, screaming girl out of church. The verger shut the door upon the noise, but there was still a sound of sobbing for several of the children had begun to cry. It was some minutes before these gasps of woe subsided and Father Bott was able to finish the Consecration.
6. Dost Thou Well to be Angry?
    ‘But you’ve no idea,’ said Gerry, ‘how utterly disgusting it was. What an outrage…. One reads about that sort of thing in the papers and it sounds shocking enough then. But to be there … they must go. We can’t keep them. I told Father Bott … I said we’ll turn them out