"So against his own interests too,"--said Lady Beaulyon, carelessly- -"Because where would all the parsons be if they offended their patrons?" Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, a thin gentleman with a monocle--assented to this proposition with a "Where indeed!" He considered that clergymen should not forget themselves,--they should show proper respect towards those on whom they depended for support. "Mr. Walden depends on God for support, I believe,"--said Cicely Bourne suddenly. Mr. Bludlip Courtenay fixed his monocle firmly in his left eye and stared at her. "Really!" he drawled dubiously--"You surprise me!" "It IS funny, isn't it?" pursued Cicely--"So unlike the Apostles!" Maryllia smiled. Lady Beaulyon laughed outright. "Are you trying to be satirical, you droll child?" she enquired languidly. "Oh no, I'm not trying,"--replied Cicely, with a quick flash of her dark eyes--"It comes quite easy! You were talking about clergymen offending their patrons. Now Mr. Walden hasn't got any patron to offend. He's his own patron." "Has he purchased the advowson, then?" enquired Mr. Courtenay--"Or, to put it more conventionally, has he obtained it through a friend at court?" "I don't know anything about the how or the why or the when,"--said Cicely--"But I know he owns the living and the church. So of course if he chooses to show people what he thinks of them when they come in to service late, he can do it. If they don't like it, he doesn't care. He doesn't ask anybody for anything,--he doesn't even send round a collection plate." "No--_I_ noticed that!--awfully jolly!"--said a good-natured looking man who had been walking beside Julian Adderley,--a certain Lord Charlemont whose one joy in life was motoring--"Awfully game! Ought to make him quite famous!" "It ought,--it ought indeed!" agreed Adderley--"I do not suppose there is another clergyman in England who obliterates the plate from the worship of the Almighty! It is so remote--so very remote!" "I think he's a funny sort of parson altogether,"--said Cicely meditatively--"He doesn't beg, borrow or steal,--he isn't a toady, he isn't a hypocrite, and he speaks his mind. Queer, isn't it?" "Very!" laughed Lord Charlemont--"I don't know another like him, give you my word!" "Well, he can't preach,"--said Lady Beaulyon, decisively--"I never heard quite such a stupid sermon." All the members of the house-party glanced at one another to see if this verdict were generally endorsed. Apparently some differed in opinion. "Didn't you like it, Eva?" asked Maryllia. "My dear child! Who COULD like it! Such transcendental stuff! And all that nonsense about the Soul! In these scientific days too!" "Ah science, science!" sighed Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, dropping his monocle with a sharp click against his top waistcoat button--"Where will it end?" Nobody volunteered a reply to this profound proposition.