footing. When Delia is older she will know what that means."

"I know it now," replied Delia. "I never consider them on the same
footing at all. There are plenty of clergymen everywhere, but where
could you find any one who can play the violin like Mr Goodwin?"

She fixed her eyes with innocent inquiry on Mrs Winn. Mrs Hurst
bridled a little.

"I do think," she said, "that clergymen occupy a position quite apart.
I like Mr Goodwin very much. I've always thought him a nice old
gentleman, and Herbert admires his playing, but--"

"Of course, of course," said Mrs Winn, "we must be all agreed as to
that.--You're too fond, my dear Delia, of giving your opinion on
subjects where ignorance should keep you silent. A girl of your age
should try to behave herself, lowly and reverently, to all her betters."

"So I do," said Delia, with a smile; "in fact, I feel so lowly and
reverent sometimes, that I could almost worship Mr Goodwin. I am ready
to humble myself to the dust, when I hear him playing the violin."

Mrs Winn was preparing to make a severe answer to this, when Miss
Gibbins, who was tired of being silent, broke adroitly in, and changed
the subject.

"You missed a treat last Thursday, Mrs Winn, by losing the Shakespeare
reading. It was rather far to get out to Pynes, to be sure, but it was
worth the trouble, to hear Mrs Hurst read `Arthur.'"

The curate's wife gave a little smile, which quickly faded as Miss
Gibbins continued: "I had no idea there was anything so touching in
Shakespeare. Positively melting! And then Mrs Palmer looked so well!
She wore that rich plum-coloured silk, you know, with handsome lace, and
a row of most beautiful lockets. I thought to myself, as she stood up
to read in that sumptuous drawing-room, that the effect was regal.
`Regal,' I said afterwards, is the only word to express Mrs Palmer's
appearance this afternoon."

"What part did Mrs Palmer read?" asked Delia, as Miss Gibbins looked
round for sympathy.

"Let me see. Dear me, it's quite escaped my memory. Ah, I have it. It
was the mother of the poor little boy, but I forget her name.--You will
know, Mrs Hurst; you have such a memory!"

"It was Constance," said the curate's wife. "Mrs Palmer didn't do
justice to the part. It was rather too much for her. Indeed, I don't
consider that they arranged the parts well last time. They gave my
husband nothing but `messengers,' and the Vicar had `King John.' Now, I
don't wa