r they
had both worked hard and constantly for many years on the mission. They
had to be up early and to bed late, with the short night frequently
interrupted by sick calls, and on a Sunday morning they had always
fasted till one o'clock, and usually preached two or even three times on
the same day. They had never known for very many years what it was to be
without serious anxiety on the matter of finance. Their lives had been
models of amazing regularity and self-control. Their recreations
consisted chiefly in dining with each other at mid-day on Mondays, and
spending the afternoon with whist and music. Probably, too, they had
dined with a leading parishioner once or twice in the week.

In politics they were mildly Liberal, more warmly Home Rulers, but they
put above all the interests of the Church. They were, too, fierce
partisans on the controversies about Church music, and had a zeal for
the beauty and order of their respective churches that was admirable in
its minuteness and its perseverance. They both had a large circle of
friends with whom they rejoiced at annual festivities at their Colleges,
and with whom they habitually and freely censured their immediate
authorities. Those who were warmest in their devotion to the Vatican
were often the most inclined to make a scapegoat of a mere bishop. But
now one of these two old friends had been made Vicar-General of the
diocese, and it was likely that the Rector would speak to him with less
than his usual freedom. Lastly, both men had that air of complete
knowledge of life which comes with the habits of a circle of people who
know each other intimately. And neither of them realised in the least
that the minds of the educated laity were a shut book to them.

"Well," said the Rector, and after puffing at his pipe he went on, "we
can hardly get into the church for the crowd, and I am going to put up a
notice to ask ladies to wear small hats--toques; isn't that what they
call them?"

"I heard him once," said the Vicar-General, "and, to tell the truth, it
didn't seem up to much."

"Words," said the Rector; "it's Oxford all over. There must be a new
word for everything. Why, he preached on Our Lady the other day, and I
declare I don't think there were three sentences I'd ever heard before!
And on Our Lady, too! A man must be gone on novelty who wants to find
anything new to say about Our Lady."

"It doesn't warm me up a bit, that sort of thing," said the
Vicar-General.