“Why, where did you pick him up?” asked Lady Claudia.

“Pick him up!  I’ve known Charley Stafford since we were both that high.  We were at Harrow and at Oxford together.  Rickmansworth knows him, Bob.  You didn’t come till he’d left.”

“Why is the gentleman called ’Father’?” said Bob.

“Because he is a priest,” Miss Chambers answered.  “And really, Mr. Territon, you’re very ignorant.  Everybody knows Father Stafford.  You do, Mr. Haddington?”

“Yes,” said Haddington, “I’ve heard of him.  He’s an Anglican Father, isn’t he?  Had a big parish somewhere down the Mile End Road?”

“Yes,” said Eugene.  “He’s an old and a great friend of mine.  He’s quite knocked up, poor old chap, and had to get leave of absence; and I’ve made him promise to come and stay here for a good part of the time, to rest.”

“Then he’s not going off again on Monday?” asked Mrs. Lane.

“Oh, I hope not.  He’s writing a book or something, that will keep him from being restless.”

“How charming!” said Lady Claudia.  “Don’t you dote on him, Kate?  Please, Mr. Lane, may I stay too?”

“By the way,” said Eugene, “Stafford has taken a vow of celibacy.”

“I knew that,” said Lady Claudia imperturbably.

Eugene looked mournful; Bob Territon groaned tragically; but Lady Claudia was quite unmoved, and, turning to the Rector, who sat smiling benevolently on the young people, asked: 

“Do you know Father Stafford, Dr. Dennis?”

“No.  I should be much interested in meeting him.  I’ve heard so much of his work and his preaching.”

“Yes,” said Lady Claudia, “and his penances and fasting, and so on.”

“Poor old Stafford!” said Eugene.  “It’s quite enough for him that a thing’s pleasant to make it wrong.”

“Not your philosophy, Master Eugene!” said the Rector.

“No, Doctor.”

“But what’s this vow?” asked Kate.

“There’s no such thing as a binding vow of celibacy in the Anglican Church,” announced Miss Chambers.

“Is that right, Doctor?” said Lady Claudia.

“God bless me, my dear,” said the Rector, “I don’t know.  There wasn’t in my time.”

“But, Eugene, surely I’m right,” persisted Aunt Jane.  “His Bishop can dispense him from it, can’t he?”

“Don’t know,” answered Eugene.  “He says he can.”

“Who says he can?”

“Why, the Bishop!”

“Well, then, of course he can.”

“All right,” said Eugene; “only Stafford doesn’t think so.  Not that he wants to be released.  He doesn’t care a bit about women—­very ungrateful, as they’re all mad about him.”

“That’s very rude, Eugene,” said Kate, in reproving tones.  “Admiration for a saint is not madness.  Shall we go in, Claudia, and leave these men to pipes and beer?”

“One for you, Rector!” chuckled Bob Territon, who knew no reverence.