ned to get.

Finally, it was decided that the wedding should take place at the
beginning of October. Mrs. Parsons wrote to her brother, who answered
that he had expected the event all along, being certain that his
conversation with James would eventually bear fruit. He was happy to be
able to congratulate himself on the issue of his diplomacy; it was
wonderful how easily all difficulties were settled, if one took them
from the point of view of a man of the world. Mrs. Jackson likewise
flattered herself that the renewed engagement was due to her
intervention.

"I saw he was paying attention to what I said," she told her husband. "I
knew all he wanted was a good, straight talking to."

"I am sorry for poor Dryland," said the Vicar.

"Yes, I think we ought to do our best to console him. Don't you think he
might go away for a month, Archibald?"

Mr. Dryland came to tea, and the Vicar's wife surrounded him with little
attentions. She put an extra lump of sugar in his tea, and cut him even
a larger piece of seed-cake than usual.

"Of course you've heard, Mr. Dryland?" she said, solemnly.

"Are you referring to Miss Clibborn's engagement to Captain Parsons?" he
asked, with a gloomy face. "Bad news travels fast."

"You have all our sympathies. We did everything we could for you."

"I can't deny that it's a great blow to me. I confess I thought that
time and patience on my part might induce Miss Clibborn to change her
mind. But if she's happy, I cannot complain. I must bear my misfortune
with resignation."

"But will she be happy?" asked Mrs. Jackson, with foreboding in her
voice.

"I sincerely hope so. Anyhow, I think it my duty to go to Captain
Parsons and offer him my congratulations."

"Will you do that, Mr. Dryland?" cried Mrs. Jackson. "That is noble of
you!"

"If you'd like to take your holiday now, Dryland," said the Vicar, "I
daresay we can manage it."

"Oh, no, thanks; I'm not the man to desert from the field of battle."

Mrs. Jackson sighed.

"Things never come right in this world. That's what I always say; the
clergy are continually doing deeds of heroism which the world never
hears anything about."

The curate went to Primpton House and inquired whether he might see
Captain Parsons.

"I'll go and ask if he's well enough," answered the Colonel, with his
admirable respect for the cloth.

"Do you think he wants to talk to me about my soul?" asked James,
smiling.

"I don't know; but I think y