Meanwhile the door had opened again, and there shuffled in with a businesslike air the white-aproned woman who cleaned the church.
Sue recognized her as one who had friends in Spring Street, whom she visited.
The church-cleaner looked at Sue, gaped, and lifted her hands; she had evidently recognized Jude's companion as the latter had recognized her.
Next came two ladies, and after talking to the charwoman they also moved forward, and as Sue stood reaching upward, watched her hand tracing the letters, and critically regarded her person in relief against the white wall, till she grew so nervous that she trembled visibly.
They went back to where the others were standing, talking in undertones: and one said—Sue could not hear which—"She's his wife, I suppose?"
"Some say Yes: some say No," was the reply from the charwoman.
"Not?
Then she ought to be, or somebody's—that's very clear!"
"They've only been married a very few weeks, whether or no."
"A strange pair to be painting the Two Tables!
I wonder Biles and Willis could think of such a thing as hiring those!"
The churchwarden supposed that Biles and Willis knew of nothing wrong, and then the other, who had been talking to the old woman, explained what she meant by calling them strange people.
The probable drift of the subdued conversation which followed was made plain by the churchwarden breaking into an anecdote, in a voice that everybody in the church could hear, though obviously suggested by the present situation:
"Well, now, it is a curious thing, but my grandfather told me a strange tale of a most immoral case that happened at the painting of the Commandments in a church out by Gaymead—which is quite within a walk of this one.
In them days Commandments were mostly done in gilt letters on a black ground, and that's how they were out where I say, before the owld church was rebuilded.
It must have been somewhere about a hundred years ago that them Commandments wanted doing up just as ours do here, and they had to get men from Aldbrickham to do 'em.
Now they wished to get the job finished by a particular Sunday, so the men had to work late Saturday night, against their will, for overtime was not paid then as 'tis now.
There was no true religion in the country at that date, neither among pa'sons, clerks, nor people, and to keep the men up to their work the vicar had to let 'em have plenty of drink during the afternoon. As evening drawed on they sent for some more themselves; rum, by all account.
It got later and later, and they got more and more fuddled, till at last they went a-putting their rum-bottle and rummers upon the communion table, and drawed up a trestle or two, and sate round comfortable and poured out again right hearty bumpers. No sooner had they tossed off their glasses than, so the story goes they fell down senseless, one and all.
How long they bode so they didn't know, but when they came to themselves there was a terrible thunder-storm a-raging, and they seemed to see in the gloom a dark figure with very thin legs and a curious voot, a-standing on the ladder, and finishing their work.
When it got daylight they could see that the work was really finished, and couldn't at all mind finishing it themselves.
They went home, and the next thing they heard was that a great scandal had been caused in the church that Sunday morning, for when the people came and service began, all saw that the Ten Commandments wez painted with the 'nots' left out.
Decent people wouldn't attend service there for a long time, and the Bishop had to be sent for to reconsecrate the church.
That's the tradition as I used to hear it as a child.
You must take it for what it is wo'th, but this case to-day has reminded me o't, as I say."
The visitors gave one more glance, as if to see whether Jude and Sue had left the "nots" out likewise, and then severally left the church, even the old woman at last.
Sue and Jude, who had not stopped working, sent back the child to school, and remained without speaking; till, looking at her narrowly, he found she had been crying silently.
"Never mind, comrade!" he said. "I know what it is!"
"I can't bear that they, and everybody, should think people wicked because they may have chosen to live their own way!
It is really these opinions that make the best intentioned people reckless, and actually become immoral!"
"Never be cast down!
It was only a funny story."
"Ah, but we suggested it!
I am afraid I have done you mischief, Jude, instead of helping you by coming!"
To have suggested such a story was certainly not very exhilarating, in a serious view of their position.
However, in a few minutes Sue seemed to see that their position this morning had a ludicrous side, and wiping her eyes she laughed.
"It is droll, after all," she said, "that we two, of all people, with our queer history, should happen to be here painting the Ten Commandments! You a reprobate, and I—in my condition… O dear!" … And with her hand over her eyes she laughed again silently and intermittently, till she was quite weak.
"That's better," said Jude gaily.
"Now we are right again, aren't we, little girl!"
"Oh but it is serious, all the same!" she sighed as she took up the brush and righted herself.
"But do you see they don't think we are married? They won't believe it!
It is extraordinary!"
"I don't care whether they think so or not," said Jude.
"I shan't take any more trouble to make them."
They sat down to lunch—which they had brought with them not to hinder time—and having eaten it were about to set to work anew when a man entered the church, and Jude recognized in him the contractor Willis.
He beckoned to Jude, and spoke to him apart.
"Here—I've just had a complaint about this," he said, with rather breathless awkwardness.
"I don't wish to go into the matter—as of course I didn't know what was going on—but I am afraid I must ask you and her to leave off, and let somebody else finish this!
It is best, to avoid all unpleasantness.
I'll pay you for the week, all the same."