But nothing could exceed Mrs. Shapleigh’s air of profound satisfaction. “I told you so!” was written all over her face. Sylvia, like Skelton, managed to maintain her composure. When the congregation was dismissed and the clergyman came out among the gossiping people in the churchyard, he was avoided more resolutely than ever, except by a few persons. Skelton walked up promptly, and said: “Good-morning, Conyers. You scalped me this morning, but I know it comes from your being so unnecessarily honest. As I’ve doubled my subscription to the club, I think it’s only fair to double it to the church, so you may call on me.” “Thank you,” said Conyers with real feeling, more touched by Skelton’s magnanimity than by his money; “I see you appreciate that what I said was from a motive of conscience.” “Of course. It won’t damp my enthusiasm for the races, but it certainly shall not turn me from a man as upright as yourself. Good-morning.” Next came old Tom Shapleigh, fuming: “Well, hello, Conyers. You made a devil of a mess of it this morning.” “Mr. Shapleigh, you shouldn’t speak of the devil before Mr. Conyers,” remonstrated Mrs. Shapleigh. “I’m sure he speaks of the devil often enough before me, and of hell, too, Mrs. Shapleigh!” roared Mr. Shapleigh. “Now, Conyers, I tell you what: if I can’t be a vestryman and on the board of managers too, why, begad! I’ll resign from the vestry.--See if I don’t, Mrs. Shapleigh!” “And the bishop coming too!” groaned Mrs. Shapleigh--for the long-expected visitation had not yet been made, but was expected shortly. “And if a man will go to the dogs,” shouted old Tom, growing more angry every moment, “why, horse racing is a deuced gentlemanly road to ruin.” “You are at liberty to think as you please, Mr. Shapleigh,” said poor Conyers, his sallow face flushing. “I have done my duty, and I fear no man.” Sylvia Shapleigh at that moment put her hand in his and gave him one of the kindest looks in the world out of her soft, expressive, grey eyes. “You always do your duty, and you never fear any man,” she said, and Conyers felt as if he had heard a consoling angel. The Blairs came along on the heels of the Shapleighs. Mrs. Blair, although usually she bitterly resented any reflection cast on Blair, was yet secretly pleased at the clergyman’s wigging, in the vain hope that it might do some good; so she, too, spoke to Conyers cordially and kindly. Blair passed him with a curt nod. The Blairs proceeded to their rickety carriage--which, however, was drawn by a pair of first-class nags, for Blair could always afford a good horse--and went home. For all their billing and cooing they occasionally differed, and on this occasion they did not bill and coo at all. Mr. and Mrs. Shapleigh not only did not bill and coo on their way home, but had a very spirited matrimonial skirmish.