MR. JAY OF WARMINSTER.

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The Vicar had undertaken to maintain Carry Brattle at Mrs. Stiggs's
house, in Trotter's Buildings, for a fortnight, but he found at the
end of the fortnight that his responsibility on the poor girl's
behalf was by no means over. The reader knows with what success
he had made his visit to Startup, and how far he was from ridding
himself of his burden by the aid of the charity and affections of
the poor girl's relatives there. He had shaken the Startup dust, as
it were, from his gig-wheels as he drove out of George Brattle's
farmyard, and had declined even the offer of money which had been
made. Ten or fifteen pounds! He would make up the amount of that
offer out of his own pocket rather than let the brother think that
he had bought off his duty to a sister at so cheap a rate. Then he
convinced himself that in this way he owed Carry Brattle fifteen
pounds, and comforted himself by reflecting that these fifteen pounds
would carry the girl on a good deal beyond the fortnight; if only she
would submit herself to the tedium of such a life as would be hers
if she remained at Mrs. Stiggs's house. He named a fortnight both to
Carry and to Mrs. Stiggs, saying that he himself would either come or
send before the end of that time. Then he returned home, and told the
whole story to his wife. All this took place before Mr. Quickenham's
arrival at the vicarage.

"My dear Frank," said his wife to him, "you will get into trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

"In the first place, the expense of maintaining this poor girl,--for
life, as far as we can see,--will fall upon you."

"What if it does? But, as a matter of course, she will earn her bread
sooner or later. How am I to throw her over? And what am I to do with
her?"

"But that is not the worst of it, Frank."

"Then what is the worst of it? Let us have it at once."

"People will say that you, a clergyman and a married man, go to see a
pretty young woman at Salisbury."

"You believe that people will say that?"

"I think you should guard against it, for the sake of the parish."

"What sort of people will say it?"

"Lord Trowbridge, and his set."

"On my honour, Janet, I think that you wrong Lord Trowbridge. He is a
fool, and to a certain extent a vindictive fool; and I grant you that
he has taken it into his silly old head to hate me unmercifully; but
I believe him to be a gentleman, and I do not think that he would
condescend