at, in some mysterious manner, he had said something he ought not to
have said. He deemed it wisest to subside into silence.

Vera rose from the writing-table. "I will go and put my hat on," she
said, quietly, and left the room.

Three minutes later she and Sir John went out of the front door together.

"Well, that is the oddest fellow I ever came across in my life," said
Eustace, fairly puzzled as soon as he was gone. "It is my belief,"
tapping his forehead significantly, "that he is a little touched _here_.
I don't believe he quite knows what he is talking about. Why, the other
night he would have nothing to say to the chancel, wouldn't even listen
to me, cut me so short about it I really couldn't venture to pursue the
subject; and here he comes, ten days later, all of his own accord, and
proposes to do it exactly as it ought to be done, in the best and most
expensive way--purbeck columns round the lancet windows, and all, Marion,
just what I wanted; gives me absolute _carte blanche_ about it. I only
hope he won't take a fresh fancy into his head and change his mind
again."

"Perhaps he found he would make himself unpopular if he did not do it,"
suggested his mother.

Marion held her tongue, and snipped away at her unbleached calico.

"And then, again, about old Hoggs' cottage," pursued Mr. Daintree. "What
on earth could make him forget where it was? He might as well forget the
way to his own house. I really do think he must be a little gone in the
upper storey, poor fellow! Marion, what have you to say about it?"

"I have to say that if you stand chattering here all the morning, we
shall never get anything done. I want to speak to you immediately,
Eustace, in the other room."

She hurried her husband out into the study, and carefully closed the door
upon them.

What then was the Rev. Eustace's amazement to behold his wife suddenly
execute a series of capers round the room, which would not have disgraced
a _coryphee_ at a Christmas pantomime, but were hardly in keeping with
the demure and highly respectable bearing of the wife of the vicar of
Sutton-in-the-Wold!

Mr. Daintree began to think that everybody was going mad this morning.

"My dear Marion, what on earth is the matter?"

"Oh, you dear, stupid, blunder-headed old donkey!" exclaimed his wife,
finishing her _pas seul_ in front of him, and hugging him vehemently as a
finale to the entertainment. "Do you mean to say that you don't see it?"

"See it