Mrs. Prymmer was exceedingly disturbed. The young wife was an acquaintance of the minister's former worldly days,--days that it was not wise to remember. Or was he more than an acquaintance, a dear friend perhaps, for he certainly, with great kindness and almost with authority, was begging her to continue her breakfast,--which she did, only occasionally glancing at him over her shoulder, with faintly pink cheeks. Mrs. Prymmer, emerging from her temporary eclipse, began a conversation with him, largely of an interrogatory character. "You don't look well," she said, at last. "I guess you tired yourself out yesterday." "H'm, yes, a clerical blue Monday," he said, giving her his words but fixing his attention on Derrice. At his remark, she turned and flashed him an amused, puzzled glance that took in his tall figure, his handsome head, his rather shabby black coat, and his man-of-the-world ease of position and manner, so much at variance with the awkward angularity of Captain White's attitude, and the composed rigidity of her husband's. By and by Captain White jerked himself from the room, and soon after, Justin, with a reserved nod to the clergyman, followed him. Mrs. Prymmer assisted the maid in clearing the dishes from the table, while Derrice sat down by the fire opposite the caller, and carried on with him a conversation so full of references to former days that it was quite unintelligible to Mrs. Prymmer. However, she had not the slightest intention of leaving her daughter-in-law alone with the clergyman, and, seating herself between them after the servant had disappeared, she broke in upon a remark of Derrice's, with a suave inquiry as to how many people had stood up for prayer at the close of the service the evening before. "Two," he replied, with a stare which caused Mrs. Prymmer to unfold her fat hands from over the long white apron she always wore, and to rise in some confusion to her feet. She was not wanted, she had better leave the room. She would not, however, be cheated out of all her rights, and in a choking voice she said, "I have some things to see to in the kitchen; can't we have a word of prayer before I go?" "Did you have prayers this morning?" inquired her spiritual adviser, coldly. "Yes," she faltered. He said nothing more, and with lingering steps and a furious glance at Derrice she went reluctantly from the room. Derrice was convulsed with laughter, some of which escaped into outward expression. "You think I am acting a part," said Mr. Huntington, dryly. "Not acting--you are the part--it is superb. But then, you were always good at amateur theatricals. What have you turned clergyman for?" "I had to do so." "The coat is delicious," she said, peeping around to get a glimpse of the long black tails. "Thank Heaven for this bit of comedy in the heavy tragedy of my life during the last few weeks." "This also is tragedy," he said, seriously. "But why have I not known you were here?"