ed the cupboard and examined it.

"Oh yes; there is enough," he said. He held up a black bottle to the
light, and blinked at it short-sightedly. "I--I only wanted to make
sure," he added; "it is apt to make one somewhat apprehensive, when
one is officiating in a strange church--apprehensive, if you
understand what I mean, of any hitch in the service."

"Quite so," said Mr. Windle, sympathetically. He extracted a small,
white, potash throat lozenge from the pocket of his waistcoat, and
placed it on his tongue. In another twenty-five minutes from that
moment he would be reading the lessons. The lozenge would be
dissolved and swallowed by that time, and the beneficial effect upon
his throat complete when he was ready to begin.

"The bishop is holding early Communion in Maidstone this morning,"
he said, when the lozenge had settled into its customary place in
his mouth.

"So I heard," said Mr. Bishop. "What a charming man his lordship is."

"You know him?" asked Mr. Windle in surprise.

"Well--slightly."

"He is doing us the honour of dining with us to-day after morning
service. We always dine in the middle of the day on Sundays--only
Sundays, of course."

"Indeed?" said the Rev. Samuel, in reference to the first part of
Mr. Windle's sentence.

"My wife and I will be pleased if you will come."

Mr. Bishop's face twitched with pleasure. He saw the opportunity of
becoming better acquainted with his lordship; of mentioning one or
two little alterations in his own parish which he had conceived and
approved of, entirely on his own initiative.

"I shall be delighted," he replied--"delighted. Sixty I think you
said?" he added, as he commenced to pour the wine into the silver
altar jug.

"If not more," replied the other, departing to take his place in the
Windle family pew.

Mr. Bishop was left in the vestry, apportioning out sixty separate
quantities of wine--quantities, which he deemed would be sufficient
to seem appreciable to the palates, spiritual and physical, of those
for whom they were intended. You can see him, tilting up the neck
of the black bottle sixty consecutive times, with no sense of the
ludicrous. Sixty--when meted out, it did not seem quite so much as
he had expected. The silver wine-ewer was only a little more than
half full. Supposing there were not enough. He would have to go over
the consecration part of the service again. That would make them very
late. The bishop might be annoyed if he wer