“I had no idea she was uncomfortable,” said Mr. Gresley, half incredulous.

“That is one of the reasons why I always say you ought not to be a clergyman,” snapped the little doctor, and was gone.

Mr. Gresley was not offended.  He was too overwhelmed with thankfulness to be piqued.

“Good old Brown,” he said, indulgently.  “He has been up all night, and he is so tired he does not know he is talking nonsense.  As if a man who did not understand cramp was not qualified to be a priest.  Ha! ha!  He always likes to have a little hit at me, and he is welcome to it.  I must just creep up and kiss dear Hester.  I never should have thought she had it in her to care for any one as she has shown she cares for Regie.  I shall tell her so, and how surprised I am, and how I love her for it.  She has always seemed so insensible, so callous.  But, please God! this is the beginning of a new life for her.  If it is, she shall never hear one word of reproach about the past from me.”

A day or two later the Bishop of Southminster had a touch of rheumatism, and Doctor Brown attended him.  This momentary malady may possibly account to the reader for an incident which remained to the end of life inexplicable to Mr. Gresley.

Two days after Regie had taken the turn towards health, and on the afternoon of the very same day when Doctor Brown had interviewed the Bishop’s rheumatism, the episcopal carriage might have been seen squeezing its august proportions into the narrow drive of Warpington Vicarage; at least, it was always called the drive, though the horses’ noses were reflected in the glass of the front-door while the hind-wheels still jarred the gate-posts.

Out of the carriage stepped, not the Bishop, but the tall figure of Dick Vernon, who rang the bell, and then examined a crack in the portico.

He had plenty of time to do so.

“Lord, what fools!” he said, half aloud.  “The crazy thing is shouting out that it is going to drop on their heads, and they put a clamp across the crack.  Might as well put a respirator on a South Sea Islander.  Is Mr. Gresley in?  Well, then, just ask him to step this way, will you?  Look here, James, if you want to be had up for manslaughter, you leave this porch as it is.  No, I did not drive over from Southminster on purpose to tell you; but I mention it now I am here.”

“I added the portico myself when I came here,” said Mr. Gresley, stiffly, who had not forgotten or forgiven the enormity of Dick’s behavior at the temperance meeting.

“So I should have thought,” said Dick, warming to the subject, and mounting on a small garden-chair.  “And some escaped lunatic has put a clamp on the stucco.”

“I placed the clamp myself,” replied Mr. Gresley.  “There really is no necessity for you to waste your time and mine here.  I understand the portico perfectly.  The crack is merely superficial.”