rprised I am, and how I love her for it.
She has always seemed so insensible, so callous. But, please God! this
is the beginning of a new life for her. If it is, she shall never hear
one word of reproach about the past from me."

A day or two later the Bishop of Southminster had a touch of rheumatism,
and Doctor Brown attended him. This momentary malady may possibly
account to the reader for an incident which remained to the end of life
inexplicable to Mr. Gresley.

Two days after Regie had taken the turn towards health, and on the
afternoon of the very same day when Doctor Brown had interviewed the
Bishop's rheumatism, the episcopal carriage might have been seen
squeezing its august proportions into the narrow drive of Warpington
Vicarage; at least, it was always called the drive, though the horses'
noses were reflected in the glass of the front-door while the
hind-wheels still jarred the gate-posts.

Out of the carriage stepped, not the Bishop, but the tall figure of Dick
Vernon, who rang the bell, and then examined a crack in the portico.

He had plenty of time to do so.

"Lord, what fools!" he said, half aloud. "The crazy thing is shouting
out that it is going to drop on their heads, and they put a clamp across
the crack. Might as well put a respirator on a South Sea Islander. Is
Mr. Gresley in? Well, then, just ask him to step this way, will you?
Look here, James, if you want to be had up for manslaughter, you leave
this porch as it is. No, I did not drive over from Southminster on
purpose to tell you; but I mention it now I am here."

"I added the portico myself when I came here," said Mr. Gresley,
stiffly, who had not forgotten or forgiven the enormity of Dick's
behavior at the temperance meeting.

"So I should have thought," said Dick, warming to the subject, and
mounting on a small garden-chair. "And some escaped lunatic has put a
clamp on the stucco."

"I placed the clamp myself," replied Mr. Gresley. "There really is no
necessity for you to waste your time and mine here. I understand the
portico perfectly. The crack is merely superficial."

"Is it?" said Dick. "Then why does it run round those two consumptive
little pillars? I tell you it's tired of standing up. It's going to sit
down. Look here"--Dick tore at the stucco with his knife, and caught the
clamp as it fell--"that clamp was only put in the stucco. It never
reached the stone or the wood, whichever the little kennel is made of.
You ought t