And before the curate knew what was coming, the Major took him by the collar of his coat, led him from the room, and--let us say, assisted him down the stairs. The front door was flung open, and, in broad daylight, the astonished neighbours saw the Rev. John Roland, M.A., of Caius College, Cambridge, what is commonly called "kicked-out," of Major Clifford's house. CHAPTER IV THE MAJOR'S SORROW After the Major had disposed of his offensive visitor, he went upstairs to think the matter over. It began to suggest itself to him that, upon the whole, he had not, perhaps, been so kind and gentle as Miss Maynard had advised. But then, as he phrased it, the fellow had been so confoundedly impertinent. "Bully me, sir! Bully me!" cried the Major, taking a strong view of Mr. Roland's, under the circumstances, exceedingly mild deportment. "And the fellow said I wasn't sober! I never was so insulted in my life." The Major felt the insinuation keenly, because--for prudential reasons only--he was rigidly abstemious. When Miss Maynard returned, she was met at the door by the respected housekeeper, Mrs. Phillips, and her own maid, Mary Ann. "Oh, Miss," began Mrs. Phillips, directly the door was opened, "such goings on I never see in all my life--never in all my days. I thought I should have fainted." Miss Maynard turned pale. She thought of the mild, if aggravating, Spooner, and was fearful that her affectionate relative might in some degree have forgotten her emphasised directions. "Oh, Miss Em!" chimed in Mary Ann. "Whatever will come to us I don't know. If the police were to come and lock us all up, I shouldn't be surprised. Not a bit, I shouldn't." "Pray shut the door," observed Miss Maynard, who was still upon the doorstep. "Come in here, Phillips, and tell me what is the matter." Miss Maynard looked disturbed. Mr. Spooner was bad enough before, but he might make things very unpleasant indeed if anything had occurred to annoy him further. "Oh, Miss Em, Mr. Roland has been here." "Mr. Roland!" "Yes, miss. And there was the Major and he a-shouting at each other, and the next thing I see was the Major dragging of him downstairs and a-shoving of him down the front steps." Miss Maynard sank upon a chair. She seemed nearly fainting. "Mrs. Phillips, this is awful." "Awful ain't the word for it, miss. It's a case for the police." "Mrs. Phillips, this is worse than you can possibly conceive. I must see the Major." "The Major's in the drawing-room. Can't you hear him, miss?" Miss Maynard could hear him stamping overhead as though he were doing his best to bring the ceiling down. "Thank you; I will go to him." She did go to him. But first she went to her own room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Going to the dressing-table she put her arms upon it and hid her face within her hands.