What could one do with such a whirlwind woman? The vicar replaced his watch and shrugged resignedly. She was what she had always been, freakish and uncertain; but on this occasion more so than usual. An April lady, whimsical and irresponsible, decidedly rude, and aggravatingly amusing. But Kaimes instinctively felt that at the back of these volleying drifts of smalltalk lurked something serious, which she feared to handle. Hoping that in time it might be manifested to his intelligence, he waited patiently, while Leah scrambled on verbosely in her gabble of nothings. "You need a London month to pull you together. Dull country, dull man; dull man, awful bore. Get a parish in the West End; you'll have howling larks converting Dives and Jezebel of the drawing-room." "I do not look upon conversion as a lark." "I do, especially with Jim. Oh, Lord, to think that he of all people should turn goody-goody. You are pleased, of course; the sight of the lost black sheep trotting home to fodder to the fold is----" "I really cannot listen to this talk," said Lionel, rising quickly. "Yes, you can. I'll shock you more before I've done." Kaimes resumed his seat blankly. "But your reason?" Leah jumped up as her visitor sat down, and addressed nothing in particular. "He asks for reason, and from a woman," she exclaimed. "So like that lame Lord Esbrook; he always asks what he should not and what he is never likely to get." "Reason from women?" "And from men, who have still less to spare. But that's his way. Have you met Lord Esbrook? Such a funny walk as he has. Dot and carry one--wooden leg, you know; dot and carry one--just like this only much worse"; and Leah limped the length of the room, mimicking an extraordinary gait so cleverly that Lionel laughed openly. "Though you shouldn't mock at people's infirmities," he coughed. "Why not? Esbrook's a holy show, and with the spite of the cripple, he spares no one's feelings. He's the cracked black pot snarling at the kettles he can never hope to be, with his dot and carry one, dot and carry one"; and back she came swinging and grunting with provoking cleverness. In her gyrations--it seemed from her imitations that Lord Esbrook gyrated--she overturned the table upon which rested the covered book. Leah pounced to pick up the volume, as did Kaimes, out of courtesy. When he had set the table on its legs he could scarcely refrain from glancing casually at the book. It's exterior was familiar. "The Bible!" exclaimed an amazed man. Leah flung herself into the chair, laughing noisily. "Oh, what a face!" she mocked, pointing a jeering finger. "Look at yourself, do." "Were--you--reading the Bible?" asked the vicar, too astonished to note the poor attempt she made to force humour. "Why not?" said she, defiantly, but with flushes and quick breaths. "You only mock."