ection," Lady Beltham answered. "Love is good
nourishment for the soul, but not for the body. However, a good appetite
is nothing to be ashamed of, and you ought to keep your roses for your
future husband, and qualify in every way to be an excellent mother of a
family."

"With lots and lots of children," Lisbeth went on wickedly: "seven or
eight daughters at the very least, all of whom will marry nice young
clergymen when their time comes and----"

She stopped speaking and the light chatter died away as a footman
entered and announced the Reverend William Hope, who followed him
immediately into the room, an elderly man with a full, clean-shaven face
and a comfortable portliness of figure.

Lady Beltham offered him a cordial hand.

"I am delighted you are back," she said. "Will you have a cup of tea
with us?"

The parson made a general bow to the girls gathered about the table.

"I got a wretched dinner in the train," he began, but Lisbeth
interrupted him.

"Don't you think this tea smells delicious?" she asked.

The parson put out his hand to take the cup she offered to him, and
bowed and smiled.

"Precisely what I was going to observe, Miss Lisbeth."

Therese and Susannah turned away to hide their amusement, and Lady
Beltham adroitly changed the subject. She moved towards her
writing-table.

"Mr. Hope must have much to tell me, girls, and it is getting late. I
must get to business. Did you have a good journey?"

"Quite as good as usual, Lady Beltham. The people at Scotwell Hill are
very plucky and good, but it will be a hard winter; there is snow on the
hills already."

"Have the women and children had all their woollen things?"

"Oh, yes: twelve hundred garments have been distributed according to a
list drawn up by the under-steward; here it is," and he handed a paper
to Lady Beltham, who passed it on to Susannah.

"I will ask you to check the list," she said to the girl, and turned
again to the clergyman. "The under-steward is a good fellow, but he is a
rabid politician; he may have omitted some families that are openly
radical; but I think charity should be given equally to all, for poverty
makes no political distinctions."

"That is the right Christian view," the clergyman said approvingly.

"And what about the sanatorium at Glasgow?" Lady Beltham went on.

"It is very nearly finished," the good man answered. "I have got your
lawyers to cut down the contractor's accounts by something like fif