The Limerick Gloves

CHAPTER I

It was Sunday morning, and a fine day in autumn; the bells of Hereford
Cathedral rang, and all the world, smartly dressed, were flocking to
church.

"Mrs. Hill! Mrs. Hill!--Phoebe! Phoebe! There's the cathedral bell, I
say, and neither of you ready for church, and I a verger," cried Mr.
Hill, the tanner, as he stood at the bottom of his own staircase. "I'm
ready, papa," replied Phoebe; and down she came, looking so clean, so
fresh, and so gay, that her stern father's brows unbent, and he could
only say to her, as she was drawing on a new pair of gloves, "Child, you
ought to have had those gloves on before this time of day."

"Before this time of day!" cried Mrs. Hill, who was now coming downstairs
completely equipped--"before this time of day! She should know better, I
say, than to put on those gloves at all: more especially when going to
the cathedral."

"The gloves are very good gloves, as far as I see," replied Mr. Hill.
"But no matter now. It is more fitting that we should be in proper time
in our pew, to set an example, as becomes us, than to stand here talking
of gloves and nonsense."

He offered his wife and daughter each an arm, and set out for the
cathedral; but Phoebe was too busy in drawing on her new gloves, and her
mother was too angry at the sight of them, to accept of Mr. Hill's
courtesy. "What I say is always nonsense, I know, Mr. Hill," resumed the
matron: "but I can see as far into a millstone as other folks. Was it
not I that first gave you a hint of what became of the great dog that we
lost out of our tan-yard last winter? And was it not I who first took
notice to you, Mr. Hill, verger as you are, of the hole under the
foundation of the cathedral? Was it not, I ask you, Mr. Hill?"

"But, my dear Mrs. Hill, what has all this to do with Phoebe's gloves?"

"Are you blind, Mr. Hill? Don't you see that they are Limerick gloves?"

"What of that?" said Mr. Hill, still preserving his composure, as it was
his custom to do as long as he could, when he saw his wife was ruffled.

"What of that, Mr. Hill! why, don't you know that Limerick is in Ireland,
Mr. Hill?"

"With all my heart, my dear."

"Yes, and with all your heart, I suppose, Mr. Hill, you would see our
cathedral blown up, some fair day or other, and your own daughter married
to the person that did it; and you a verger, Mr. Hill."

"God forbid!" cried Mr, Hill; and he stopped short and settled his wig.
Presently recovering himself, he added, "But, Mrs. Hill, the cathedral is
not yet blown up; and our Phoebe is not yet