Her class was large. Her father's congregation was large too, and there were a great many children in the village. She sat in the small village hall beside the church, telling them Bible stories and drawing on the blackboard to illustrate them, and at the appointed time she marshaled them into a straggling line and marched them into church to take part in the last few minutes of the service. Mr. Fitzgibbon watched her without appearing to do so, gently chivvying her restless brood into suitable quietness with an unselfconscious air which delighted him, and Mrs. Napier, beside him, peeping up from under her Sunday hat, heaved a happy, hopeful sigh.
Romantic Encounter
"chivvying her restless brood into suitable quietness"...that sounds like me several years ago - trying make it look like my six children were a better behaved lot than they usually were. Now that my 'baby' is nearly 16, I don't have a lot of chivvying to do. The only chivvying I have to do now on Sunday is of the 'get out of the shower, you're using up all the hot water' variety.
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