loose! I can't express to you the sort of terror I have in thinking of those two occasions. He didn't say very much, but he looked as if he were possessed by any number of devils." "He was never married, I suppose?" I said. "No," said Barthrop, "and yet he seems to make friends with women very easily--in fact, they tend to fall in love with him, if I may say so. He has got a beautiful manner with them, and he is simply devoted to children. You will see that they really rather worship him in the village. He knows everyone in the place, and never forgets a fact about them." "What does he _do_ mostly?" I said. "I really don't know," said Barthrop. "He is rather a solitary man. He very often has one of us in for an hour in the evening or morning--but we don't see much of him in the afternoon; he gardens or walks about. He has a quick eye for things, birds and plants, and so on; and he can find more nests in an hour than any man I ever saw. Sometimes he will go and shut himself up in the church--he is rather fond of going to church; he always goes to the Communion." "Does he expect us to go?" I said. "No," said Barthrop. "He rather likes us to go, but he doesn't at all like us going to please him. 'I want you to want to go,' I heard him say once, 'but I don't want you to go _because_ I want you.' And he has no particular views, I think, about the whole thing--at least not for other people." "Tell me some more about him," I said. "What is there to say?" said Barthrop. "He is just there--the biggest fact on the horizon. Oh yes, there is one thing; he is tremendously devoted to music. We have some music in the evenings very often. You saw the organ in the gallery--it is rather a fine one, and he generally has someone here who can play. Lestrange is a first-rate musician. Father Payne can't play himself, but he knows all about it, and composes sometimes. But I think he looks on music as rather a dangerous indulgence, and does not allow himself very much of it. You can see how it affects him. And you mustn't be taken in by his manner. You might think him heavy and unperceptive, with that quiet and rather secret eye of his; yet he notices everything, always, and far quicker than anyone else. But it is hard to describe him, because he can't do anything much, and you might think he was indolent; and yet he is the biggest person I have ever seen, the one drawback being that he credits other people with being big too." "I notice that you call him 'Father Payne,'" said Vincent. "Does that mean anything in particular?" "No," said Barthrop, smiling. "It began as a sort of joke, I believe--but it seemed to fit him; and it's rather convenient. We can't begin by calling him 'Payne,' and 'Mr. Payne' is a little formal. Some of the men call him 'sir,' but I think he likes 'Father Payne' best, or simply 'Father,' You will find it exactly expresses him." "Yes," I said, "I am sure it does!"