Mrs Pansey. Cargrim was quick
to observe her buckram civility, but diplomatically took no notice of
its frigidity. On the contrary, he was more gushing and more expansive
than ever.

'A happy meeting, my dear lady,' he said, with a beaming glance. 'Had I
not met you, I should have called to see you as the bearer of good
news.'

'Really!' replied Miss Whichello, drily. 'That will be a relief from
hearing bad news, Mr Cargrim. I have had sufficient trouble of late.'

'Ah!' sighed the chaplain, falling into his professional drawl, 'how
true is the saying of Job, "Man is born--"'

'I don't want to hear about Job,' interrupted Miss Whichello, crossly.
'He is the greatest bore of all the patriarchs.'

'Job, dear lady, was not a patriarch.'

'Nevertheless, he is a bore, Mr Cargrim. What is your good news?'

'Captain Pendle is coming to Beorminster this week, Miss Whichello.'

'Oh,' said the little old lady, with a satirical smile, 'you are a day
after the fair, Mr Cargrim. I heard that news this morning.'

'Indeed! But the bishop only sent for Captain Pendle yesterday.'

'Quite so; and Miss Arden received a telegram from Captain Pendle this
morning.'

'Ah! Miss Whichello, young love! young love!'

The little lady could have shaken Cargrim for the smirk with which he
made this remark. However, she restrained her very natural impulse, and
merely remarked--rather irrelevantly, it must be confessed--that if two
young and handsome people in love with one another were not happy in
their first blush of passion they never would be.

'No doubt, dear lady. I only trust that such happiness may last. But
there is no sky without a cloud.'

'And there is no bee without a sting, and no rose without a thorn. I
know all those consoling proverbs, Mr Cargrim, but they don't apply to
my turtle-doves.'

Cargrim rubbed his hands softly together. 'Long may you continue to
think so, my dear lady,' said he, with a sad look.

'What do you mean, sir?' asked Miss Whichello, sharply.

'I mean that it is as well to be prepared for the worst,' said Cargrim,
in his blandest manner. 'The course of true love--but you are weary of
such trite sayings. Good-day, Miss Whichello!' He raised his hat and
turned away. 'One last proverb--Joy in the morning means grief at
night.'

When Mr Cargrim walked away briskly after delivering this Parthian
shaft, Miss Whichello stood looking after him with an expression of
nervous worry on her rosy face. S