the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's
conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his
shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was
evidently no time to censure his behaviour.

"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife.
"We have all been young once you know."

"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly.

"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and
paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby."

"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone
of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you
ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--"

"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I
wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John
will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us
credit."

"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied
Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware
that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always
may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He
ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always
had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I
think he might show some gratitude."

"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar.

"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not
possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope,
however, that he will not go to the cottage--"

"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my
mind with these trifles."

"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me."

"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am
sure."

"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine
sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin!
It is very sad."

"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is
very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them
this time, too."

"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much
trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced
doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering
adve