“Could I speak to your reverence a moment, sir?” he inquired. “Certainly. Come in,” replied Mr. Campbell, and led the visitor into the study. “Well, minister,” said the bailiff, as soon as they were both seated at the writing-table near the window, “it has come at last. I have got a dispatch from the squire, announcing his immediate arrival with his bride and his brother-in-law, though not with the expected party of friends.” The curate started, and then passed his hand across his forehead, as if to clear away a cloud of perplexity. Had not Longman told him that the squire and his lady had arrived the night before? And he could not have made a mistake, because he came with them, and left them at the Hall. And now the bailiff tells him that he has received a dispatch, announcing the immediate arrival of the squire and his party. What did all this mean? At length an explanation suggested itself, and he spoke upon it. “Has not that dispatch been delayed? Should it not have come yesterday?” he inquired. “Oh, no, sir! It was dated this morning, and came an hour ago!” exclaimed the bailiff. “Have you got it about you? Would you mind letting me see it?” “Here it is, sir.” The bailiff drew the paper from his vest pocket and put it into the hands of the minister. Mr. Campbell opened it and read: “LANGHAM’S HOTEL, LONDON, “December 15, 18—. “TO MR. JOHN PROWT, Haymore Lodge, Haymore, Yorkshire: I shall arrive with my wife and brother-in-law, the Rev. Cassius Leegh, by the one-thirty train, at Chuxton. Send one comfortable carriage to meet us. “RANDOLPH H. HAY.” Mr. Campbell returned the slip of paper to the bailiff and fell into silence. He could make nothing of it. He was dumfounded. “So you see it is all right, sir,” said the bailiff. “I shall send the open barouche, as the day is so fine, and with two footmen, besides the coachman. I suppose they will enter this town about half-past two o’clock.” “Well,” said the dazed curate, “what do you wish me to do?” “If you would give orders to the bell ringers, sir, to be at their post, and also have the parish school children drawn up each side the road leading to the park gate——” “It is rather an unfavorable season—December—for children to be parading outdoors,” suggested the minister. “Of course, sir, the kids can’t wear the white frocks and pink sashes and wreaths of flowers on their bare heads, as they could have done three months ago; but they can wear their picturesque winter uniform of red cloaks and hoods, and black woolen stockings and gloves; and as the weather is so remarkably fine, and the hour just after noon, in the warmest part of the day, I do not think the exposure will hurt them. Do you?” “N-oo! I do not suppose it will.”