“I—am—Faith—Meredith,” she said, in little more than a whisper.
“Meredith, hey? One of the parson’s youngsters, hey? I’ve heard of you—I’ve heard of you! Riding on pigs and breaking the Sabbath! A nice lot! What do you want here, hey? What do you want of the old pagan, hey? I don’t ask favours of parsons—and I don’t give any. What do you want, I say?”
Faith wished herself a thousand miles away. She stammered out her thought in its naked simplicity.
“I came—to ask you—to go to church—and pay—to the salary.”