“Yes, it is lovely,” assented the minister, who had not noticed the change in his child’s countenance. “And I like it so well that I shall grieve to leave it.” “Oh, but you are sure of it for a twelvemonth!” exclaimed Jennie, eager to please her father, yet again stopping short at the sudden memory of what must meet him at Haymore. “Oh, no, my dear. I am not sure of the place for a month even. Orton has heart disease, and, though he may live for months or years, he may drop dead at any moment. He may be dead now. And in such a case, you see, the very same thing that happened to me at Medge would happen again at Haymore.” “How, papa?” “If Orton should die, his successor would turn me adrift, to put in my place some friend of his own.” “Who has the appointing of the incumbent? The bishop of the diocese or some nobleman?” “Neither. The living is attached to Haymore Manor, and is in the gift of the new squire.” In the gift of the new squire, and that squire Kightly Montgomery under a new name! The thought of this complication turned Jennie pale. In her dismay and confusion, she could settle upon but one course—the course she had thought of all along—to tell her father everything; every single fact she knew concerning Kightly Montgomery. The minister was now watching her curiously, anxiously. To cover her distress, she asked the first question that came into her head, and not an irrelevant one: “Were the terms favorable upon which you agreed to take this parish for a year, papa?” “Well, yes, I suppose so. The living is worth six hundred pounds a year, and Orton gives me two hundred, with the use of the rectory.” “And you do all the work for one-third of the salary?” “Yes, my dear; and I am very glad to do it. And there are hundreds of capable clergymen in England who would be glad to do it for one-sixth of the salary.” Then Mr. Campbell suddenly became conscious that he was talking too freely of private matters in a crowded car. He looked about him. But every one seemed too sleepy to attend to him. The woman with the three babies was sound asleep, as was her brood, and the group reminded the curate of a fat, cozy pussy cat and her kittens. The woman with the bundles was nodding, catching herself, gripping her parcels and nodding again. These were the nearest passengers to the curate and his daughter, and had evidently not been listening to the conversation. The express had been running on a long while without stopping, but now, about noon, the steam horn shrieked again and the train drew into the station of a large manufacturing town, stopped two minutes and roared on again. The swift motion of the train, that sent nearly all the grown people to nodding and all the children to sleep, seemed to have so overpowered the nerves of Jennie’s young baby as to steep it into a deep stupor. The little mother at length grew anxious. “Don’t you think baby sleeps too soundly, papa?” she inquired uneasily.