Everyone of course was aware that Mutimer spent his Sundays in London (a circumstance, it was admitted, not altogether reassuring to the ladies with marriageable daughters), and his unwonted appearance in the village on the evening of the present Saturday excited universal comment.  Would he appear at church next morning?  There was a general directing of eyes to the Manor pew.  This pew had not been occupied since the fateful Sunday when, at the conclusion of the morning service, old Mr. Mutimer was discovered to have breathed his last.  It was a notable object in the dim little church, having a wooden canopy supported on four slim oak pillars with vermicular moulding.  From pillar to pillar hung dark curtains, so that when these were drawn the interior of the pew was entirely protected from observation.  Even on the brightest days its occupants were veiled in gloom.  To-day the curtains remained drawn as usual, and Richard Mutimer disappointed the congregation.  Wanley had obtained assurance on one point—­Socialism involved Atheism.

Then it came to pass that someone saw Mutimer approach the Walthams’ house just before dinner time; saw him, moreover, ring and enter.  A couple of hours, and the ominous event was everywhere being discussed.  Well, well, it was not difficult to see what that meant.  Trust Mrs. Waltham for shrewd generalship.  Adela Waltham had been formerly talked of in connection with young Eldon; but Eldon was now out of the question, and behold his successor, in a double sense!  Mrs. Mewling surrendered her Sunday afternoon nap and flew from house to house—­of course in time for the dessert wine at each.  Her cry was haro!  Really, this was sharp practice on Mrs. Waltham’s part; it was stealing a march before the commencement of the game.  Did there not exist a tacit understanding that movements were postponed until Mutimer’s occupation of the Manor?  Adela was a very nice young girl, to be sure, a very nice girl indeed, but one must confess that she had her eyes open.  Would it not be well for united Wanley to let her know its opinion of such doings?

In the meantime Richard was enjoying himself, with as little thought of the Wanley gossips as of—­shall we say, the old curtained pew in Wanley Church?  He was perfectly aware that the Walthams did not represent the highest gentility, that there was a considerable interval, for example, between Mrs. Waltham and Mrs. Westlake; but the fact remained that he had never yet been on intimate terms with a family so refined.  Radical revolutionist though he was, he had none of the grossness or obstinacy which would have denied to the bourgeois household any advantage over those of his own class.  At dinner he found himself behaving circumspectly.  He knew already that the cultivated taste objects to the use of a table-knife save for purposes of cutting; on the whole he saw grounds for the objection.  He knew, moreover, that manducation and the absorption of fluids must