pretty well dipped before, I know. Poor old George! such an
awfully good chap!"

"Ah," repeated Mr. Barter, "I'm very sorry--very sorry indeed. Things
were bad enough as it was."

A ray of interest illumined the leisureliness of the Hon. Geoffrey's
eyes.

"You mean about Mrs.----H'm, yes?" he said. "People are talking; you
can't stop that. I'm so sorry for the poor Squire, and Mrs. Pendyce. I
hope something'll be done."

The Rector frowned.

"I've done my best," he said. "Well hit, sir! I've always said that
anyone with a little pluck can knock off that lefthand man you think so
much of. He 'comes in' a bit, but he bowls a shocking bad length. Here I
am dawdling. I must get back!"

And once more that real solemnity came over Mr. Barter's face.

"I suppose you'll be playing for Coldingham against us on Thursday?
Good-bye!"

Nodding in response to Winlow's salute, he walked away.

He avoided the churchyard, and took a path across the fields. He was
hungry and thirsty. In one of his sermons there occurred this passage:
"We should habituate ourselves to hold our appetites in check. By
constantly accustoming our selves to abstinence little abstinences in our
daily life--we alone can attain to that true spirituality without which
we cannot hope to know God." And it was well known throughout his
household and the village that the Rector's temper was almost dangerously
spiritual if anything detained him from his meals. For he was a man
physiologically sane and healthy to the core, whose digestion and
functions, strong, regular, and straightforward as the day, made calls
upon him which would not be denied. After preaching that particular
sermon, he frequently for a week or more denied himself a second glass of
ale at lunch, or his after-dinner cigar, smoking a pipe instead. And he
was perfectly honest in his belief that he attained a greater
spirituality thereby, and perhaps indeed he did. But even if he did not,
there was no one to notice this, for the majority of his flock accepted
his spirituality as matter of course, and of the insignificant minority
there were few who did not make allowance for the fact that he was their
pastor by virtue of necessity, by virtue of a system which had placed him
there almost mechanically, whether he would or no. Indeed, they respected
him the more that he was their Rector, and could not be removed, and were
glad that theirs was no common Vicar like that of Coldingh