“Do you mean the influenza?” I said. “That was scarcely my fault. My temperature was 104.” “All the same,” said Thormanby, “you didn’t exactly stand up to her, did you?” I understood then that he was thinking about Lalage. “Nor did O’Donoghue,” I said. “And Vittie really was shamming. Titherington told me so.” “Influenza or no influenza, I shouldn’t have sat down under the things that girl was saying about you.” “What would you have done?” “I should have put her in her place pretty quick. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” As a matter of fact Thormanby had taken very good care not to be there. He had washed his hands and put the whole responsibility on the shoulders of Miss Battersby and Miss Pettigrew. I felt it my duty to bring this home to his conscience. “Why didn’t you come?” I asked. “We’d have been very pleased to see you.” “Peers,” he replied, “are not allowed to interfere in elections.” This, of course, was a mere subterfuge. I was not inclined to let Thormanby escape. “You’ll have every opportunity,” I said, “of putting her in her place without running your head against the British constitution. She means to take an active part in electing the new bishop.” “Nonsense. There’s no part for her to take. That’s a matter for the synod of the diocese and she won’t be allowed into its meetings.” “All the same she’ll manage to get in. But of course that won’t matter. You’ll put her in her place pretty quick.” Thormanby’s tone was distinctly less confident when he next spoke. “Do you happen to know,” he asked, “what she means to do?” “No, I don’t.” “Could you possibly find out? She might tell you if you asked her.” “I don’t intend to ask her. I have washed my hands of the whole affair.” My mother came into the conversation at this point. “Lalage hasn’t confided in me,” she said, “but she has told Miss Battersby----” “Ah!” I said, “Miss Battersby is so wonderfully sympathetic. Anybody would confide in her.” “She told Miss Battersby,” my mother went on, “that she was studying the situation and looking into the law of the matter.” “Let her stick to that,” said Thormanby. “Are Hilda and Selby-Harrison down here?” I asked. “Hilda is,” said my mother. “I don’t know about the other. Who is he or she?” “He,” I said, “is the third member of the committee of the Episcopal Election Guild. He’s particularly good at drawing up agreements. I expect the Archdeacon will have to sign one. By the way, I suppose he’s the proper man to vote for?” “I’m supporting him,” said Thormanby, “so I suppose you will.” I do not like being hustled in this way. “I shall study the situation,” I said, “before I make up my mind. I am a life member of the Episcopal Election Guild and I must allow myself to be guided to some extent by the decision of the committee.” “Do you mean to tell me,” said Thormanby, “that you’ve given that girl money again?”