d,
and had ventured to call.

Daphne received the explanation without any cordiality. She did indeed
bid the callers sit down, and ordered some fresh tea. But she took no
pains to entertain them, and if Lady Barnes and Herbert French had not
come to the rescue, they would have fared but ill. The Archdeacon, in
fact, did come to grief. For him Mrs. Barnes was just a "foreigner,"
imported from some unknown and, of course, inferior _milieu_, one who
had never been "a happy English child," and must therefore be treated
with indulgence. He endeavoured to talk to her--kindly--about her
country. A branch of his own family, he informed her, had settled about
a hundred years before this date in the United States. He gave her, at
some length, the genealogy of the branch, then of the main stock to
which he himself belonged, presuming that she was, at any rate,
acquainted with the name? It was, he said, his strong opinion that
American women were very "bright." For himself he could not say that he
even disliked the accent, it was so "quaint." Did Mrs. Barnes know many
of the American bishops? He himself had met a large number of them at a
reception at the Church House, but it had really made him quite
uncomfortable! They wore no official dress, and there was he--a mere
Archdeacon!--in gaiters. And, of course, no one thought of calling them
"my lord." It certainly was very curious--to an Englishman. And
Methodist bishops!--such as he was told America possessed in
plenty--that was still more curious. One of the Episcopalian bishops,
however, had preached--in Westminster Abbey--a remarkable sermon, on a
very sad subject, not perhaps a subject to be discussed in a
drawing-room--but still----

Suddenly the group on the other side of the room became aware that the
Archdeacon's amiable prosing had been sharply interrupted--that Daphne,
not he, was holding the field. A gust of talk arose--Daphne declaiming,
the Archdeacon, after a first pause of astonishment, changing aspect and
tone. French, looking across the room, saw the mask of conventional
amiability stripped from what was really a strong and rather tyrannical
face. The man's prominent mouth and long upper lip emerged. He drew his
chair back from Daphne's; he tried once or twice to stop or argue with
her, and finally he rose abruptly.

"My dear!"--his wife turned hastily--"We must not detain Mrs. Barnes
longer!"

The two ladies looked at the Archdeacon--the god of their idolatry