mean?" remarked Billy, and said "Hello!" to the young
clergyman, and did not wait for Charley's answer.

The Rev. John Brown was by no means a conventional parson. He was
smoking a cigarette, and two dogs followed at his heels. He was
certainly not a fogy. He had more than a little admiration for Charley
Steele, but he found it difficult to preach when Charley was in the
congregation. He was always aware of a subterranean and half-pitying
criticism going on in the barrister's mind. John Brown knew that he
could never match his intelligence against Charley's, in spite of the
theological course at Durham, so he undertook to scotch the snake by
kindness. He thought that he might be able to do this, because Charley,
who was known to be frankly agnostical, came to his church more or less
regularly.

The Rev. John Brown was not indifferent to what men thought of him. He
had a reputation for being "independent," but his chief independence
consisted in dressing a little like a layman, posing as the athletic
parson of the new school, consorting with ministers of the dissenting
denominations when it was sufficiently effective, and being a "good
fellow" with men easily bored by church and churchmen. He preached
theatrical sermons to societies and benevolent associations. He wanted
to be thought well of on all hands, and he was shrewd enough to know
that if he trimmed between ritualism on one hand and evangelicism on
the other, he was on a safe road. He might perforate old dogmatical
prejudices with a good deal of freedom so long as he did not begin
bringing "millinery" into the service of the church. He invested his own
personal habits with the millinery. He looked a picturesque figure with
his blond moustache, a little silk-lined brown cloak thrown carelessly
over his shoulder, a gold-headed cane, and a brisk jacket half
ecclesiastical, half military.

He had interested Charley Steele, also he had amused him, and sometimes
he had surprised him into a sort of admiration; for Brown had a
temperament capable of little inspirations--such a literary inspiration
as might come to a second-rate actor--and Charley never belittled
any man's ability, but seized upon every sign of knowledge with the
appreciation of the epicure.

John Brown raised his hat to Charley, then held out a hand.
"Masterly-masterly!" he said. "Permit my congratulations. It was the
one thing to do. You couldn't have saved him by making him an object of
pity, by a