“Let me speak to Miss Mallory,” said Mrs. Roughsedge, soothingly.

The Vicar shook his head.

“She is a young lady of strong will.”  And with a hasty nod of farewell to the Captain, whose hostility he divined, he walked away.

“And what about obstinate and pig-headed parsons!” said Roughsedge, hotly, addressing his remark, however, safely to the Vicar’s back, and to his mother.  “Who makes him a judge of what we shall read!  I shall make a point of asking for both the books!”

“Oh, my dear Hugh!” cried his mother, in rather troubled protest.  Then she happily reflected that if he asked for them, he was not in the least likely to read them.  “I hope Miss Mallory is not really an unbeliever.”

“Mother!  Of course, what that poker in a wide-awake did was to say something uncivil about her father, and she wasn’t going to stand that.  Quite right, too.”

“She did come to church on Christmas Day,” said Mrs. Roughsedge, reflecting.  “But, then, a great many people do that who don’t believe anything.  Anyway, she has always been quite charming to your father and me.  And I think, besides, the Vicar might have been satisfied with your father’s opinion—­he made no complaint about the books.  Oh, now the Miss Bertrams are going to stop us!  They’ll of course know all about it!”

If Captain Roughsedge growled ugly words into his mustache, his mother was able to pretend not to hear them, in the gentle excitement of shaking hands with the Miss Bertrams.  These middle-aged ladies, the daughters of a deceased doctor from the neighboring county town of Dunscombe, were, if possible, more plainly dressed than usual, and their manners more forbidding.

“You will have heard of this disagreeable incident which has occurred,” said Miss Maria to Mrs. Roughsedge, with a pinched mouth.  “My sister and I shall, of course, remove our names from the Club.”

“I say—­don’t your subscribers order the books they like?” asked Roughsedge, half wroth and half laughing, surveying the lady with his hand on his side.

“There is a very clear understanding among us,” said Miss Maria, sharply, “as to the character of the books to be ordered.  No member of the Club has yet transgressed it.”

“There must be give and take, mustn’t there?” said Miss Elizabeth, in a deprecatory voice.  She was the more amiable and the weaker of the two sisters. “We should never order books that would be offensive to Miss Mallory.”

“But if you haven’t read the books?”

“The Vicar’s word is quite enough,” said Miss Maria, with her most determined air.

They all moved on together, Captain Roughsedge smoothing or tugging at his mustache with a restless hand.

But Miss Bertram, presently, dropping a little behind, drew Mrs. Roughsedge with her.

“There are all sorts of changes at the house,” she said, confidentially.  “The laundry maids are allowed to go out every evening, if they like—­and Miss Mallory makes no attempt to influence the servants to come to church.  The Vicar says the seats for the Beechcote servants have never been so empty.”