partaken of them was to
him an intolerable thought. To quote Brother Copas again,
"These Neo-Catholics may well omit to fence the tables, confident in
the protection of their own vulgarity."

Yet Brother Bonaday had another reason, on which the Chaplain hit--
though brutally and by accident--in his next question.

"Haven't anything on your conscience, hey?"

Brother Bonaday had something on his conscience. His face twitched
with the pain of it; but still he made no answer.

"If so," Mr. Colt pursued, "take my advice and have it out."
He spoke as one recommending the extraction of a tooth.
"You're a Protestant, I know, though you didn't sign that Petition;
and I'm not here to argue about first principles. I'm come as a
friend. All I suggest is, as between practical men, that you just
give the thing a trial. It may be pretty bad," suggested Mr. Colt,
dropping his air of authority and picking up his most insinuating
voice. "I hear some pretty bad things; but I'll guarantee your
feeling all the better for a clean breast. Come, let me make a
guess. . . . It has something to do with this child of yours!"

Mr. Colt, looking down from his great height, saw the invalid's face
contracted by a sharp spasm, noted that his thin hands gripped upon
the arms of the chair so tightly that the finger-nails whitened, and
smiled to himself. Here was plain sailing.

"I know more than you guessed, eh? Well, now, why not tell me the
whole truth?"

Brother Bonaday gazed up as if appealing for mercy, but shook his
head.

"I cannot, sir."

"Come, come--as to a friend, if you won't as to a priest? . . .
Hang it all, my good man, you might give me credit for _that_,
considering the chance I'm holding out! You don't surely suppose
that St. Hospital will continue to suffer this scandal in its midst?"
Still as Brother Bonaday shook his head, the Chaplain with a sign of
impatience enlarged his hint. "Copas knows: I have it on the best
authority. Was it he that dropped the hint to Nurse Branscome? or
did she herself scent the discovery and give over attending on you?"

"You won't--send her--away!" pleaded Brother Bonaday, thinking only
of Corona.

His voice came in a whisper, between gasps for breath.

Mr. Colt stared.

"Well, of all the calm requests--!" he began.

But here the sound of a light running footstep cut him short.
The door was pushed open, and on the threshold stood Corona, flushed,
excited.

"Daddy, guess