tration, so that it was not
strange if she quickly discovered what had happened. Mr. Dryland was
taking tea at the Vicarage, whither, with characteristic manliness, he
had gone to face his disappointment. Not for him was the solitary
moping, nor the privacy of a bedchamber; his robust courage sent him
rather into the field of battle, or what was under the circumstances the
only equivalent, Mrs. Jackson's drawing-room.

But even he could not conceal the torments of unsuccessful love. He
stirred his tea moodily, and his usual appetite for plum-cake had quite
deserted him.

"What's the matter with you, Mr. Dryland?" asked the Vicar's wife, with
those sharp eyes which could see into the best hidden family secret.

Mr. Dryland started at the question. "Nothing!"

"You're very funny this afternoon."

"I've had a great disappointment."

"Oh!" replied Mrs. Jackson, in a tone which half-a-dozen marks of
interrogation could inadequately express.

"It's nothing. Life is not all beer and skittles. Ha! ha!"

"Did you say you'd been calling on Mary Clibborn this afternoon?"

Mr. Dryland blushed, and to cover his confusion filled his mouth with a
large piece of cake.

"Yes," he said, as soon as he could. "I paid her a little call."

"Mr. Dryland, you can't deceive me. You've proposed to Mary Clibborn."

He swallowed his food with a gulp. "It's quite true."

"And she's refused you?"

"Yes!"

"Mr. Dryland, it was a noble thing to do. I must tell Archibald."

"Oh, please don't, Mrs. Jackson! I don't want it to get about."

"Oh, but I shall. We can't let you hide your light under a bushel. Fancy
you proposing to that poor, dear girl! But it's just what I should have
expected of you. That's what I always say. The clergy are constantly
doing the most beautiful actions that no one hears anything about. You
ought to receive a moral Victoria Cross. I'm sure you deserve it far
more than that wicked and misguided young man."

"I don't think I ought to take any credit for what I've done," modestly
remonstrated the curate.

"It was a beautiful action. You don't know how much it means to that
poor, jilted girl."

"It's true my indignation was aroused at the heartless conduct of
Captain Parsons; but I have long loved her, Mrs. Jackson."

"I knew it; I knew it! When I saw you together I said to Archibald:
'What a good pair they'd make!' I'm sure you deserve her far more than
that worthless creature."

"I wish she thought s