washer-woman whom the Gresleys did not employ,
and whom they had not wished Hester to employ. The sight of those two
white dressing-gowns, beautifully "got up" with goffered frills, had
aroused afresh in Mrs. Gresley what she believed to be indignation at
Hester's extravagance, an indignation which had been increased when she
caught sight of her own untidy wrapper over her chair. She always
appeared to disadvantage in Hester's presence. The old smouldering
grievance about the washing set a light to other feelings. They caught.
They burned. They had been drying in the oven a long time.

"It has always failed," said Mrs. Gresley, with subdued passion, "and it
will fail again. I heard you tell Mrs. Loftus that you would never let
Hester publish another book like the _Idyll_. But though you say this
one is worse, you won't be able to stop her. You will see when she
comes back that she will pack up the parcel and send it back to the
publishers, whatever you may say."

The young couple were so absorbed in their conversation that they had
not observed the approach of a tall, clerical figure whom the
parlor-maid was escorting towards them.

"I saw you through the window, and I said I would join you in the
garden," said Archdeacon Thursby, majestically. "I have been lunching
with the Pratts. They naturally wished to hear the details of the
lamented death of our mutual friend, Lord Newhaven."

Archdeacon Thursby was the clergyman who had been selected, as a friend
of Lady Newhaven's, to break to her her husband's death.

"It seems," he added, "that a Miss West, who was at the Abbey at the
time, is an intimate friend of the Pratts."

Mrs. Gresley slipped away to order tea, the silver teapot, etc.

The Archdeacon was a friend of Mr. Gresley's. Mr. Gresley had not many
friends among the clergy, possibly because he always attributed the
popularity of any of his brethren to a laxity of principle on their
part, or their success, if they did succeed, to the peculiarly easy
circumstances in which they were placed. But he greatly admired the
Archdeacon, and made no secret of the fact that, in his opinion, he
ought to have been the Bishop of the diocese.

A long conversation now ensued on clerical matters, and Mr. Gresley's
drooping spirits revived under a refreshing _douche_ of compliments on
"Modern Dissent."

The idea flashed across his mind of asking the Archdeacon's advice
regarding Hester's book. His opinion carried weight