chief.

"One be enough, mum?" he enquired solicitously.

Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded him through her lorgnettes.

Mr. Sopley had been detached from his contemplation of the ceiling,
and was now led up to Lady Knob-Kerrick.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "we are indeed greatly honoured."

"'Ere, 'ere!" broke in Bindle, attracting to himself the attention of
the whole assembly.

"Will your Ladyship make the presentation now?" enquired Mr. Hearty,
"or----"

"Now!" was Lady Knob-Kerrick's uncompromising reply, as she seated
herself. "Fetch a table, please," she added, indicating, with an
inclination of her head, her footman, who stood with what Bindle
called "the prizes."

Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gash trotted off to fetch a small table from the
corner of the room. This was placed in front of Lady Knob-Kerrick, and
on it John deposited the illuminated address, the bag containing the
notes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.

A hush of expectancy fell upon the assembly. Lady Knob-Kerrick rose
and was greeted by respectful applause. Her manner was that of a
peacock deigning to acknowledge the existence of a group of sparrows.
From a dorothy-bag she drew a typewritten paper, which she proceeded
to read.

"I have been asked to present to the Rev. James Sopley, as a mark of
the esteem in which he is held by his flock, an illuminated address, a
purse of fifty pounds, and a silver-mounted hot-water bottle"--she
paused for a moment--"a trifle that shall remind him of the loving
hearts he has left behind. (Murmurs of respectful appreciation.)

"Mr. Sopley has fought the good fight in Fulham for upwards of
twenty-five years, and he is now about to retire to enjoy the rest
that he has so well and thoroughly earned. ("'Ere, 'ere!" from
Bindle.) I trust and hope that the Lord will spare him for many years
to come. ("I'm sure I would if I was Gawd," whispered Bindle to Mr.
Tuddenham, who only glared at him.)

"We have now among us," continued Lady Knob-Kerrick, "a new pastor, a
man of sterling worth and sound religious principles. ("That's you!"
said Bindle in a hoarse whisper, nudging Mr. MacFie who stood next to
him.) I have," proceeded Lady Knob-Kerrick, "sat under him ("Oh,
naughty! naughty!" whispered Bindle. Lady Knob-Kerrick glared at
him),--sat--sat under him for a number of years at Barton Bridge,
where he will always be remembered as a man devoted to" ("Temperance
fetes!" interpolated Bindle.)

The result of the interrup