The minister glanced at his wife; then knocked the ashes from his pipe and nodded dismissal to Audrey. His late secretary slipped from her seat and left the room, not without alacrity. “Well?” demanded Darden, when the sound of the quick young feet had died away. “Open your budget, Deborah. There’s naught in it, I’ll swear, but some fal-lal about your flowered gown or an old woman’s black cat and corner broomstick.” Mistress Deborah Darden pressed her thin lips together, and eyed her lord and master with scant measure of conjugal fondness. “It’s about some one nearer home than your bishops and commissaries,” she said. “Hide passed by this morning, going to the river field. I was in the garden, and he stopped to speak to me. Mr. Haward is home from England. He came to the great house last night, and he ordered his horse for ten o’clock this morning, and asked the nearest way through the fields to the parsonage.” Darden whistled, and put down his drink untasted. “Enter the most powerful gentleman of my vestry!” he exclaimed. “He’ll be that in a month’s time. A member of the Council, too, no doubt, and with the Governor’s ear. He’s a scholar and fine gentleman. Deborah, clear away this trash. Lay out my books, fetch a bottle of Canary, and give me my Sunday coat. Put flowers on the table, and a dish of bonchrétiens, and get on your tabby gown. Make your curtsy at the door; then leave him to me.” “And Audrey?” said his wife. Darden, about to rise, sank back again and sat still, a hand upon either arm of his chair. “Eh!” he said; then, in a meditative tone, “That is so,--there is Audrey.” “If he has eyes, he’ll see that for himself,” retorted Mistress Deborah tartly. “‘More to the purpose,’ he’ll say, ‘where is the money that I gave you for her?’” “Why, it’s gone,” answered Darden “Gone in maintenance,--gone in meat and drink and raiment. He didn’t want it buried. Pshaw, Deborah, he has quite forgot his fine-lady plan! He forgot it years ago, I’ll swear.” “I’ll send her now on an errand to the Widow Constance’s,” said the mistress of the house. “Then before he comes again I’ll get her a gown”-- The minister brought his hand down upon the table. “You’ll do no such thing!” he thundered. “The girl’s got to be here when he comes. As for her dress, can’t she borrow from you? The Lord knows that though only the wife of a poor parson, you might throw for gewgaws with a bona roba! Go trick her out, and bring her here. I’ll attend to the wine and the books.” When the door opened again, and Audrey, alarmed and wondering, slipped with the wind into the room, and stood in the sunshine before the minister, that worthy first frowned, then laughed, and finally swore. “’Swounds, Deborah, your hand is out! If I hadn’t taken you from service, I’d swear that you were never inside a fine lady’s chamber. What’s the matter with the girl’s skirt?”