In politics they were mildly Liberal, more warmly Home Rulers, but they put above all the interests of the Church. They were, too, fierce partisans on the controversies about Church music, and had a zeal for the beauty and order of their respective churches that was admirable in its minuteness and its perseverance. They both had a large circle of friends with whom they rejoiced at annual festivities at their Colleges, and with whom they habitually and freely censured their immediate authorities. Those who were warmest in their devotion to the Vatican were often the most inclined to make a scapegoat of a mere bishop. But now one of these two old friends had been made Vicar-General of the diocese, and it was likely that the Rector would speak to him with less than his usual freedom. Lastly, both men had that air of complete knowledge of life which comes with the habits of a circle of people who know each other intimately. And neither of them realised in the least that the minds of the educated laity were a shut book to them. "Well," said the Rector, and after puffing at his pipe he went on, "we can hardly get into the church for the crowd, and I am going to put up a notice to ask ladies to wear small hats--toques; isn't that what they call them?" "I heard him once," said the Vicar-General, "and, to tell the truth, it didn't seem up to much." "Words," said the Rector; "it's Oxford all over. There must be a new word for everything. Why, he preached on Our Lady the other day, and I declare I don't think there were three sentences I'd ever heard before! And on Our Lady, too! A man must be gone on novelty who wants to find anything new to say about Our Lady." "It doesn't warm me up a bit, that sort of thing," said the Vicar-General. "I like to hear the things I've heard all my life." "Of course," responded the other, "but you won't get that from our popular preachers, I can tell you," and he laughed with some sarcasm. "Is he making converts?" "Too many, far too many; that's just what I complain of. We shall have a nice name for relapses here if it goes on like this." Both men paused. "You've nothing more to complain of?" asked the Monsignor. "No--no--" The second "no" was drawn out to its full length. "Of course, he's unpunctual, and he's often late for dinner. I don't know where he gets his dinner at all sometimes. And there are always ladies coming to see him. If there are two in the parlour and another in the dining-room, and a young man on the stairs, it's for ever Father Molyneux they are asking for. And, of course, he has too much money given him for the poor, and we have double the beggars we had last year." "But," said the other, "you know there's more being said than all that. There's an unpleasant story, and it's about that I want to ask you. Well--the same sort of thing as poor Nobbs; you'll remember Nobbs?"