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Griselda Hohlen was miffed, annoyed and complaining about it. “So, why won’t Sabellia come to church with us?”

“Because she attends a different congregation, Mother,” her daughter, Irabella Gemhorn, soothed. “She goes to St Harland’s at least once a week.”

“St Harland’s,” Griselda sniffed. “I know they’re not Penitentials, but what are they?”

“They’re not particularly anything,” admitted Irabella. “They’re not Penitential, like us, and they’re not High or Low Church or even Reformist.” Forestalling her mother’s next question, she added, “I contacted the Bishop’s office and they assured me that the congregation and the priest, Father Hehndorf, are theologically very sound.”

“I still think she should be coming with us instead of going off with some, some unknown splinter group. Even if they are approved by the Bishop!” Griselda thumped her fist on the arm of her chair in emphasis.

“That’s not quite what I said, Mother,” Irabella’s correction was quiet.

“Close enough,” Griselda snapped. Catching sight of the granddaughter in question striding past the parlour door, she called out, “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that, young woman?”

Sabellia Gemhorn came back and looked into the room. “Hi, Grandma. I’m just off to church.” She looked down at her tangerine, turquoise and teal ensemble and asked, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It is the Feast of Colours.”

“And it’s the church that gets dressed in colours, not the congregation. You go put on something respectable before you leave this house,” Griselda ordered.

“Sorry, Grandma, but no.” Despite apologising, Sabellia looked unrepentant. “We were all asked to wear multiple colours today and I drew three colours starting with ‘t’. It’s bright but I don’t see any problem.”

“The only respectable colour for church is black,” snapped back Griselda.

“Oh I agree,” replied Sabellia, “if you’re going to a Penitential service, but I’m not.”

“So why not come to church with the rest of us?” Her grandmother glared while she waited for an answer.

“If you don’t know or understand my reasons, then they’re not important to you. Now, I have to get going or I’ll be late. Bye.” With that Sabellia backed out of the room and was gone down the hallway to the front door.

“Well what did that mean?” complained Griselda to Irabella. “It’s really not good enough when we’re trying to increase our attendance that my own granddaughter won’t come.”

“That new family last week seemed nice,” offered Irabella.

“Not the right sort of people at all,” dismissed Griselda. “The elders had to get Arimea Shooren to explain to them that we’re a Penitential congregation and that they’d be happier elsewhere.”

Irabella sighed.