ked up a few papers that were lying on the table and after
glancing at them threw them down in disgust.

"Law reports--Wall Street reports--the god of this world.
Evidently very ordinary people, Jane."

He looked at his sister, but she sat stiffly and primly in her
chair and made no reply. He repeated:

"Didn't you hear me? I said they are ordinary people."

"I've no doubt," retorted Miss Deetle, "and as such they will not
thank us for prying into their affairs."

"Prying, did you say?" said the parson, resenting this implied
criticism of his actions.

"Just plain prying," persisted his sister angrily. "I don't see
what else it is."

The Rev. Pontifex straightened up and threw out his chest as he
replied:

"It is protecting my flock. As Leader of the Unified All Souls
Baptismal Presbytery, it is my duty to visit the widows and
orphans of this community."

"These people are neither widows or orphans," objected Miss
Deetle.

"They are strangers," insisted the Rev. Pontifex, "and it is my
duty to minister to them--if they need it. Furthermore it is my
duty to my congregation to find out who is in their midst. No less
than three of the Lady Trustees of my church have asked me who and
what these people are and whence they came."

"The Lady Trustees are a pack of old busybodies," growled his
sister.

Her brother raised his finger warningly.

"Jane, do you know you are uttering a blasphemy? These Rossmore
people have been here two weeks. They have visited no one, no one
visits them. They have avoided a temple of worship, they have
acted most mysteriously. Who are they? What are they hiding? Is it
fair to my church, is it fair to my flock? It is not a bereavement,
for they don't wear mourning. I'm afraid it may be some hidden
scandal--"

Further speculations on his part were interrupted by the entrance
of Mrs. Rossmore, who thought rightly that the quickest way to get
rid of her unwelcome visitors was to hurry downstairs as quickly
as possible.

"Miss Deetle--Mr. Deetle. I am much honoured," was her not too
effusive greeting.

The Reverend Pontifex, anxious to make a favourable impression,
was all smiles and bows. The idea of a possible scandal had for
the moment ceased to worry him.

"The honour is ours," he stammered. "I--er--we--er--my sister Jane
and I called to--"

"Won't you sit down?" said Mrs. Rossmore, waving him to a chair.
He danced around her in a manner that made her nervous.

"Thank y