eham has consented
to go back to the old chapel."

"Why not let him stay here till the other is finished?" asked the
Vicar.

"My dear sir," replied the lord, "we are going to transfer the chapel
body and bones. If we were Yankees we should know how to do it
without pulling it in pieces. As it is, we've got to do it piecemeal.
So now, Mr. Hickbody," he continued, turning round to the builder
from Salisbury, "you may go to work at once. The Marquis will be much
obliged to you if you will press it on."

"Certainly, my lord," said Mr. Hickbody, taking off his hat. "We'll
put on quite a body of men, my lord, and his lordship's commands
shall be obeyed."

After which Lord St. George and Mr. Fenwick withdrew together from
the chapel and walked into the vicarage.

"If all that be absolutely necessary--" began the Vicar.

"It is, Mr. Fenwick; we've made a mistake." Lord St. George always
spoke of his father as "we," when there came upon him the necessity
of retrieving his father's errors. "And our only way out of it is
to take the bull by the horns at once and put the thing right. It
will cost us about L700, and then there is the bore of having to own
ourselves to be wrong. But that is much better than a fight."

"I should not have fought."

"You would have been driven to fight. And then there is the one
absolute fact;--the chapel ought not to be there. And now I've one
other word to say. Don't you think this quarrelling between clergyman
and landlord is bad for the parish?"

"Very bad indeed, Lord St. George."

"Now I'm not going to measure out censure, or to say that we have
been wrong, or that you have been wrong."

"If you do I shall defend myself," said the Vicar.

"Exactly so. But if bygones can be bygones there need be neither
offence nor defence."

"What can a clergyman think, Lord St. George, when the landlord of
his parish writes letters against him to his bishop, maligning his
private character, and spreading reports for which there is not the
slightest foundation?"

"Mr. Fenwick, is that the way in which you let bygones be bygones?"

"It is very hard to say that I can forget such an injury."

"My father, at any rate, is willing to forget,--and, as he hopes,
to forgive. In all disputes each party of course thinks that he has
been right. If you, for the sake of the parish, and for the sake of
Christian charity and goodwill, are ready to meet him half way, all
this ill-will may be buried in the gro