lf
extremely agreeable for nearly ten minutes. Then she crossed the
corner of the tennis-court, seriously interfering with the game in
progress, and "cut out" the Dean from the middle of the group of men
under the chestnut-tree. "Cut out" is strictly the right phrase to
use. It is applied or used to be applied to the operation of capturing
and carrying off ships at anchor under the protecting guns of friendly
forts. It requires great dash and gallantry to "cut out" a ship. The
whole audience gaped in astonishment at Lady Moyne's daring when she
captured the Dean. She walked off with him, when she got him, to the
shrubbery at the far end of the lawn. They were a singularly
ill-assorted pair. Lady Moyne is invariably exquisite, a small woman
with dainty ways and great vivacity. The Dean is an ecclesiastic as
different as possible from the suave dignitaries who lead lives of
scholarly leisure in cathedral closes. We picture the ideal dean, a
slender man, slightly stooped, thin-lipped, with a suggestion of mild
asceticism in his face. He steps slowly through the long window of his
study. He paces the closely shaven lawn. The crows caw reverently in
lofty trees. He holds a calf-bound volume of Plato in his hand. From
time to time he glances from the cramped Greek text to the noble,
weatherworn towers of his cathedral. His life is delicately scented
with a fine mixture of classical culture and Tallis' ferial responses.
Our Dean--he is also rector of our parish--is a man of a wholly
different kind. He is, for one thing, wholly unconnected with any
cathedral and has probably never paced a lawn beneath the shadow of
historic towers in all his life. This kind of detached, independent
dean is not found, I believe, anywhere except in Ireland. He is tall,
cadaverous, rugged, and he can open his eyes so wide that the whites
of them show all round the irises. Besides being a dean and the rector
of our parish, he is honorary Grand Chaplain to the Black Preceptory
of the Orange Order. Crossan, a stern judge of ecclesiastics, has the
highest opinion of him. It was surmised by a lady in the second row to
whom I happened to be talking at the time, that Lady Moyne wanted to
consult with him about the best way of defeating the Home Rule Bill.
Lady Moyne is, of course, a strong Unionist.

The second unusual incident of the afternoon followed the arrival of
Bob Power. He came late, and Godfrey, driven from the side of Lady
Moyne, fastened on