“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR: I learned with extreme grief a few days ago of the lamented death of the late honored rector of Haymore. I immediately came over to the city to see my brother-in-law, Mr. Hay, and apply to him for the living which is in his gift. He has been pleased to bestow it on me. My induction will date from the first of January next. I do not wish to inconvenience you, but I should be obliged if you could vacate the rectory in time to have the house prepared for my reception. Mr. Randolph Hay and his wife will be going to Haymore Hall for the Christmas holidays with a party of friends, of which, at his invitation, I have the happiness to make one. We shall, therefore, soon meet at Haymore. With best respects to Mrs. Campbell, I remain, dear sir, very truly yours, “CASSIUS LEEGH.” “Oh, my beloved helpless ones! What will become of you now?” moaned the curate, covering his eyes. CHAPTER XV THE CURATE’S TROUBLE After brooding over this disastrous letter for a long hour the curate summoned enough courage to arise and go to his wife and take counsel with her. This was, indeed, a trouble that he dared not keep from her, even to spare her from anxiety; for it was absolutely necessary that they should take immediate measures for removal from the rectory and settlement in lodgings somewhere in the town before the arrival of the new incumbent; or, so at least it seemed to the curate in his dismayed state of mind. He went directly into the back parlor, where the fire was burning cheerfully in the grate, the tea table was set, and Hetty resting in her low rocking-chair on the rug. “Where is Jennie?” inquired the curate, dropping into another chair beside his wife. “In her bedroom, putting her baby to sleep,” replied Hetty. “Well, I am glad the child is not here just now. I have bad news to tell you, my dear.” “Eh? Bad news? What is it, Jimmy? But, dear me, don’t look so dreadfully cast down! It cannot be such awfully bad news, since you, I, Jennie and the baby are all safe and sound in the house. But what, then, is your bad news?” “I have lost my position here, and we shall have to leave the rectory,” replied Mr. Campbell in a tone of despair. “Let me take a look at you?” said his wife, rising, giving him her hand, helping him to his feet, and surveying him all around. “Well, I don’t see that you have lost a limb, or any mental or bodily faculty, that you need look so woebegone! As for losing your position, of course you lost that when the old rector died; and as for leaving the rectory, we all knew that we should have to do that.” “Yes, but not so soon. We shall have to vacate by the first of January.” “Well, that gives us plenty of time to choose new lodgings. I would not ‘fash my beard’ about that, if I were you, Jimmy! But why must we move by that time?”