er, and that mere dictionary, Driver, never gave cause for
imputations like these. What has the fellow got hold of?"

"Stories of the last century 'two-bottle men,'" said Julius,
"trumped up by unionists now against us in these days. The truth is
that the world triumphs and boasts whenever it catches the ministry
on its own ground. Its ideal is as exacting as the saintly one."

"I say Rector," exclaimed the curate, after due pause, "you'll be at
Evensong on Saturday? The ladies at Sirenwood want me to go to
Backsworth with them to hear the band."

"Cannot young Strangeways take care of his sisters?"

"I would not ask it, sir, but they have set their heart on seeing
Rood House, and want me to go with them because of knowing Dr.
Easterby. Then I'm to dine with them, and that's the very last of
it for me. There's no more croquet after this week."

"I am thankful to hear it," said Julius, suppressing his distaste
that the man he most reverenced, and the place which was his haven
of rest, should be a mere lion for Bee and Conny, a slight pastime
before the regimental band!

CHAPTER XXIII
The Apple of Ate

Oh mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?--The Three Bears

"I do really think Terry has found the secret of happiness, for a
_little_ while at least," said Rosamond, entering Mrs. Poynsett's
room. "That funny little man in the loan museum has asked him to
help in the arrangement."

"Who is it?"

"The little watchmaker, or watch cobbler, in the old curiosity
shop."

"Yes; Terry calls him a descendant of the Genoese Frescobaldi, and
I'm sure his black eyes were never made for an English head. Terry
has always haunted those uncanny wares of his, and has pursued them
to the museum. ''Tis not every young gentleman I would wish to see
there,' says the old man, 'but the Honourable Mr. De Lancey has the
soul of an antiquarian.'"

"They say the old man is really very clever and well read."

"He looks like an old magician, with his white cap and spectacles,
and he had need to have a wand to bring order out of that awful
chaos. Everybody all round has gone and cleared out their rubbish-
closet. Upon my word, it looks so. There are pictures all one
network of cracks, and iron caps and gauntlets out of all the halls
in every stage of rust, and pots and pans and broken crocks, and
baskets of coin all verdigris and tarnish!--Pah!"

"Are Miles's birds safe?"

"Oh yes, with a s