ue probably, would resent being made
to look ridiculous. Hilda's mother and the Archdeacon might not care for
the way in which Lalage emphasized the joke.

My fellow candidates were the first to object. I received letters from
them both, written by secretaries and signed very shakily, asking me
to cooperate with them in suppressing Lalage. O'Donoghue, who was
apparently not quite so ill as Vittie was, also suggested that we should
publish, over our three names, a dignified rejoinder to the mirth of the
press. He enclosed a rough draft of the dignified rejoinder and invited
criticism and amendment from me. My proper course of action was obvious
enough. I made my nurse reply with a bulletin, dictated by me, signed by
her and McMeekin, to the effect that I was too ill to read letters and
totally incapable of answering them. I gave McMeekin twenty-five pounds
for medical attendance up to date, just before I asked him to sign the
bulletin. I also presented the nurse with a brooch of gold filagree
work, which I had brought home with me from Portugal, intending to give
it to my mother. It would have been churlish of them, afterward, to
refuse to sign my bulletin.

This disposed of Vittie and O'Donoghue for the time. But I knew that
there was more trouble before me. I was scarcely surprised when Canon
Beresford walked into my room one evening at about nine o'clock. He
looked harassed, shaken, and nervous. I asked him at once if he were an
influenza convalescent.

"No," he said, "I'm not. I wish I were."

"There are worse things than influenza. I used not to think so at first,
but now I know there are. Why don't you get it? I suppose you've come to
see me in hope of infection."

"No. I came to warn you. We've just this moment arrived and you may
expect us on you to-morrow morning."

"You and the Archdeacon?"

"No. Thank goodness, nothing so bad as that. The Archdeacon is at home."

"I wonder at that. I fully expected he'd have been here."

"He would have been if he could. He wanted to come, but of course it was
impossible. You heard I suppose, that the bishop is dead."

"No, I didn't hear. Influenza?"

"Pneumonia, and that ties the Archdeacon."

"What a providential thing! But you said 'we.' Is Thormanby here?"

"No, Thormanby told me yesterday that he'd washed his hands of the whole
affair."

"That's exactly what I've done," I said. "It's by far the most sensible
thing to do. I wonder you didn't."

"I tried t