Mrs. Layton got her salmon, and ate her green peas with relish, and all the time went on enlarging about her daughter's grief. She also tried to extract some information from John as to his past life, but here she signally failed. John was reticent and repressive, and probably, as she remarked afterward to her husband, "he had good reason to be." "And the vicar tells me you met Margaret Churchill to-day," she said, presently. "Well, she's a pretty girl, but I fear a sad flirt, a very sad flirt." "Pretty girls often get that character," answered John, "because men naturally admire them." Mrs. Layton shook her head. "But Margaret really goes too far," she said. "Now there's young Henderson of Stourton Grange, an excellent match for her, and far beyond what she might expect. Yet after letting him run after her for months, and encouraging him in every way, I'm told she's actually refused him." "She may not like him." "But then why did she seem to like him, Mr. Temple? Her encouragement was marked, positively marked. And then there's our curate, Mr. Goodall--certainly he is not much in anyway, and has nothing to offer her, but still she flirts with him. I consider it unwomanly, degrading in fact, to make so little of herself as to take up with everyone, yet this is what Margaret Churchill does." "You are very hard on the pretty Mayflower." "Yes, now look at that--Mayflower indeed! Such an absurd name. And I'm told she always likes to be called May, but I make a point of addressing her always as Margaret, the name she was christened by." "If ever I have the privilege I shall call her Miss May." "It's a privilege you will share with a good many young men, I'm afraid, Mr. Temple. Yes, Margaret Churchill, to my opinion, is a very indiscreet young woman." "She's very handsome, at all events." "Yes, in a way; everything depends on taste, you know. James," this was to the footman, "hand me the stewed chicken again. Try this entree, Mr. Temple; it's excellent." John Temple was exceedingly glad when the dinner was over. Mrs. Layton wearied him to death. She went into small parish details and squabbles, and gave the minutest description of her wrongs. "A clergyman's wife has many trials, Mr. Temple, but I try to bear them, and it is such a poor parish, too. My husband and I have toiled here for over thirty-nine years, and we barely can live, and certainly the laborer is worthy of his hire." "Certainly," said John, with a laugh. "And talking of labor, I do not know what the working classes are coming to," continued Mrs. Layton, with extraordinary rapidity; "I assure you, Mr. Temple, I can not get a man--just a common working man--to plant and dig my little bit of potato ground, under half a crown a day! I've tried a shilling, which I consider fair, eighteen pence, two shillings, all in vain. It's absurd."