Lady Emily ate nothing but chicken, and custard-pudding or rice, all the time she was at Arnstead.

The richer and more seasoned any dish, the more grateful it was to Euphra.

Mr. Arnold was a saddle-of-mutton man.

Hugh preferred roast-beef, but ate anything.

“What sort of a clergyman have you now, Mr. Arnold?” asked Mrs. Elton, at the dinner-table.

“Oh! a very respectable young gentleman, brother to Sir Richard, who has the gift, you know.  A very moderate, excellent clergyman he makes, too!”

“Ah! but you know, Lady Emily and I” —­ here she looked at Lady Emily, who smiled and blushed faintly, “are very dependent on our Sundays, and” —­

“We all go to church regularly, I assure you, Mrs. Elton; and of course my carriage shall be always at your disposal.”

“I was in no doubt about either of those things, indeed, Mr. Arnold.  But what sort of a preacher is he?”

“Ah, well! let me see. —­ What was the subject of his sermon last Sunday, Euphra, my dear?”

“The devil and all his angels,” answered Euphra, with a wicked flash in her eyes.

“Yes, yes; so it was.  Oh!  I assure you, Mrs. Elton, he is quite a respectable preacher, as well as clergyman.  He is an honour to the cloth.”

Hugh could not help thinking that the tailor should have his due, and that Mr. Arnold gave it him.

“He is no Puseyite either,” added Mr. Arnold, seeing but not understanding Mrs. Elton’s baffled expression, “though he does preach once a month in his surplice.”

“I am afraid you will not find him very original, though,” said Hugh, wishing to help the old lady.

“Original!” interposed Mr. Arnold.  “Really, I am bound to say I don’t know how the remark applies.  How is a man to be original on a subject that is all laid down in plain print —­ to use a vulgar expression —­ and has been commented upon for eighteen hundred years and more?”

“Very true, Mr. Arnold,” responded Mrs. Elton.  “We don’t want originality, do we?  It is only the gospel we want.  Does he preach the gospel?”

“How can he preach anything else?  His text is always out of some part of the Bible.”

“I am glad to see you hold by the Inspiration of the Scriptures, Mr. Arnold,” said Mrs. Elton, chaotically bewildered.

“Good heavens!  Madam, what do you mean?  Could you for a moment suppose me to be an atheist?  Surely you have not become a student of German Neology?” And Mr. Arnold smiled a grim smile.

“Not I, indeed!” protested poor Mrs. Elton, moving uneasily in her seat; —­ “I quite agree with you, Mr. Arnold.”

“Then you may take my word for it, that you will hear nothing but what is highly orthodox, and perfectly worthy of a gentleman and a clergyman, from the pulpit of Mr. Penfold.  He dined with us only last week.”

This last assertion was made in an injured tone, just sufficient to curl the tail of the sentence.  After which, what was to be said?