was said to the Doctor by Mr. Pearson, the squire, in the course of
those two or three days of which we are speaking. Mr. Pearson was an old
gentleman, who did not live often at Bowick, being compelled, as he always
said, by his health, to spend the winter and spring of every year in
Italy, and the summer months by his family in London. In truth, he did
not much care for Bowick, but had always been on good terms with the
Doctor, and had never opposed the school. Mr. Pearson had been good also
as to Church matters,--as far as goodness can be shown by generosity,--and
had interested himself about the curates. So it had come to pass that the
Doctor did not wish to snub his neighbour when the question was asked. "I
rather think not," said the Doctor. "I fear I shall have to look out for
some one else." He did not prolong the conversation; for, though he wished
to be civil, he did not wish to be communicative. Mr. Pearson had shown
his parochial solicitude, and did not trouble himself with further
questions.

"So Mr. Peacocke isn't going to take the curacy?" This, the very same
question in the very same words, was put to the Doctor on the next morning
by the vicar of the next parish. The Rev. Mr. Puddicombe, a clergyman
without a flaw who did his duty excellently in every station of life, was
one who would preach a sermon or take a whole service for a brother parson
in distress, and never think of reckoning up that return sermons or return
services were due to him,--one who gave dinners, too, and had pretty
daughters;--but still our Doctor did not quite like him. He was a little
too pious, and perhaps given to ask questions. "So Mr. Peacocke isn't
going to take the curacy?"

There was a certain animation about the asking of this question by Mr.
Puddicombe very different from Mr. Pearson's listless manner. It was
clear to the Doctor that Mr. Puddicombe wanted to know. It seemed to the
Doctor that something of condemnation was implied in the tone of the
question, not only against Mr. Peacocke, but against himself also, for
having employed Mr. Peacocke. "Upon my word I can't tell you," he said,
rather crossly.

"I thought that it had been all settled. I heard that it was decided."

"Then you have heard more than I have."

"It was the Bishop told me."

Now it certainly was the case that in that fatal conversation which had
induced the Doctor to interrogate Mr. Peacocke about his past life, the
Doctor himse