ou you wanted a domestic chaplain."

"Well, and what did the chaplain do in those days. Mrs. Pert?"

"Why, he sat at the bottom of the table, and carved the sirloin."

"And he read, and played at backgammon--when he was wanted, I believe,"
put in Edgar.

"And he did a great deal more," added Catherine in a graver tone. "He
kept the accounts, and looked after important business for his patron."

"And visited the poor and was the almoner and their friend," said
Lettice in a low voice.

"And played at bowls, and drank--"

Catherine put her hand playfully over the general's mouth.

"Don't, dear papa--you must _not_--you must not, indeed. Do you know
this irreverence in speaking of the members of so sacred a profession is
not at all what ought to be done. Don't Edgar. Dear papa, I may be
foolish, but I do _so_ dislike it."

"Well, well, well--any thing for a quiet life."

"But to resume the subject," locking her arm in his, and smiling with a
sweetness which no one, far least he, could resist. "Really and
seriously I do think it would be an excellent thing if you would ask Mr.
St. Leger to be your domestic chaplain."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"Not such stuff and nonsense as you think. Here's our darling
Lettice--think what a comfort she has been to mamma, and think what a
pleasant thing it would be for you to have a confidential and an
agreeable friend at your elbow--just as mamma has in Lettice. Hide your
face, Lettice, if you can't bear to be praised a little before it; but I
will have it done, for I see you don't like it. But, papa, you see
things are getting a good deal into disorder, they say, upon your
property out of doors, just for want of some one to look after them. I
verily believe, that if we could persuade this young gentleman to come
and do this for you, he would save you a vast deal of money."

The general made no answer. He sank back in his chair, and seemed to
meditate. At last, turning to Edgar, he said,

"That little wife of yours is really not such a fool as some might
suppose her to be, captain."

"Really--'

"What say you, Mrs. Melwyn? Is there any sense in the young lady's
suggestion, or is there not? What says Miss Arnold? Come, let us put it
to the vote."

Mrs. Melwyn smiled. Catherine applauded and laughed, and kissed her
father, and declared he was the dearest piece of reasonableness in the
world. And, in short, the project was discussed, and one said this, and
the other said th