ther amused as John, a little
embarrassed, said quickly, "I should have said cider."

"Of course, we have had no wine, quite a natural mistake," remarked
Grace, which the representative squire felt to be a very disagreeable
comment.

"You will find cigars and pipes on the table," said the rector, "and I
will join you in a moment." So saying he detained John by a hand on his
arm and led him aside as they crossed the hall.

"You are feeling that old hard cider, my boy. You had better go to bed. I
should have warned you."

"Yes, sir--I--did not--I mean--I--"

"_C'est une diablesse_--a little devil. There are others, and worse ones,
John. Good-night."

On the stairs the young fellow felt a deepening sense of humiliation
and surprise as he became aware of the value of the banister-rail.

Rivers went into the library blaming his want of care, and a little sorry
for the lad's evident distress. "What, not smoking, Grace?"

"No, I have given it up."

"But, why?"

"Well, I can't smoke cheap strong tobacco, and I can't afford better
stuff."

"Then, be at ease, my friend. The Squire has sent me a large supply. I am
to divide with you," which was as near to a fib as the young clergyman
ever got in his blameless life.

"I shall thank him," returned Grace simply, "and return to my pipe, but I
do sometimes think it is too weak an indulgence of a slavish habit."

"Hardly worth while to thank Penhallow; he will have forgotten all about
it."

"But I shall not."

They smoked and talked politics, and the village and their work, until at
last, after one of the pipe-filling pauses, Grace said, "I ought not to
have taken that cider, but it singularly refreshed me. You did not
partake."

"No, it disagrees with me."

"I feel it, Brother Rivers. I feel it slightly, and--I--a man who
preaches temperance, total abstinence--"

"My dear Grace, that is not temperance. There may be intemperance in
the way a man puts his opinions before others--a man may hurt his own
cause--"

Grace returned quickly, "You were in our church Wednesday night--I saw
you. You think I was intemperate?"

"Frankly, yes. You were abusive. You are too well self-governed to
understand the working-man's temptations. You preached from the heart as
you felt, without the charity of the head."

"Perhaps--perhaps," he returned humbly; and then with a quite gentle
retort, "Don't you sometimes preach too much from the head, Brother
Rivers?"

"Yes, that may