“He seems extremely tame about the garden.”

“Or he would not have fallen on Rachel.  It was only a chance; he just brought over a message about that tiresome bazaar that has been dinned into our ears for the last three months.  A bazaar for idiots they may well call it!  They wanted a carving of yours, Uncle George!”

“I am afraid I gave little Alice Bertie one in a weak moment, Bessie,” said Mr. Clare, “but I hardly durst show my face to Lifford afterwards.”

“After all, it is better than some bazaars,” said Bessie; “it is only for the idiot asylum, and I could not well refuse my name and countenance to my old neighbours, though I stood out against taking a stall.  Lord Keith would not have liked it.”

“Will he be able to go with you?” asked Alick.

“Oh, no; it would be an intolerable bore, and his Scottish thrift would never stand the sight of people making such very bad bargains!  No, I am going to take the Carleton girls in, they are very accommodating, and I can get away whenever I please.  I am much too forbearing to ask any of you to go with me, though I believe Uncle George is pining to go and see after his carving.”

“No, thank you; after what I heard of the last bazaar I made up my mind that they are no places for an old parson, nor for his carvings either, so you are quite welcome to fall on me for my inconsistency.”

“Not now, when you have a holiday from Mr. Lifford,” returned Bessie.  “Now come and smell the roses.”

All the rest of the day Alick relapsed into the lazy frivolous young officer with whom Rachel had first been acquainted.

As he was driving home in the cool fresh summer night, he began—­

“I think I must go to this idiotical bazaar!”

“You!” exclaimed Rachel.

“Yes; I don’t think Bessie ought to go by herself with all this Carleton crew.”

“You don’t wish me to go,” said Rachel, gulping down the effort.

“You!  My dear Rachel, I would not take you for fifty pounds, nor could I go myself without leaving you as vice deputy curate.”

“No need for that,” said Mr. Clare, from the seat behind; “young people must not talk secrets with a blind man’s ears behind them.”

“I make no secret,” said Alick.  “I could not go without leaving my wife to take care of my uncle, or my uncle to take care of my wife.”

“And you think you ought to go?” said Mr. Clare.  “It is certainly better that Bessie should have a gentleman with her in the crowd; but you know this is a gossiping neighbourhood, and you must be prepared for amazement at your coming into public alone not three weeks after your wedding.”

“I can’t help it, she can’t go, and I must.”

“And you will bring down all the morning visitors that you talk of dreading.”

“We will leave you to amuse them, sir.  Much better that,” he added between his teeth, “than to leave the very semblance of a secret trusted by her to that intolerable puppy—­”