I took the dictionary in my hand. “There’s a bit more,” I said, “that you didn’t read. Perhaps there is some secondary meaning in the word. I’ll go on: ‘By stat: 31 Elizabeth C. VII. Severe penalties are enacted against this crime. In the church of Scotland simonaical practices----’ Well, we’re not in Scotland anyhow, so we needn’t go into that. I wonder if stat: 31 Elizabeth C. VII runs in this country. Some don’t; but it sounds to me rather as if it would. If it does, you’re in a nasty fix, Lalage; you and Hilda. Severe penalties can hardly mean less than imprisonment with hard labour. “But we didn’t do it,” said Lalage. “The Archdeacon appears to think you did,” I said, “both of you, especially Hilda. You must have done something. You’d better tell me exactly what occurred from the beginning of the interview until the end. I’ll try and pick out what struck the Archdeacon as simonaical. I don’t want to see either of you run in for severe penalties if we can help it. I expect the best thing will be to repent and apologize at once.” “Repent of what?” said Lalage. “That’s what I want to find out. Begin at the beginning now and give me the whole story.” “We drove over this morning,” said Lalage, “to see the Archdeacon. I didn’t want to go a bit, for the Archdeacon is particularly horrid when he’s nice, as he is just at present. But Selby-Harrison said we ought.” “Is Selby-Harrison here?” “No. He wrote from Dublin. He’s been looking up the subject of bishops in the college library so that we’d know exactly what we ought to do.” “He should have looked up simony first thing. I can’t forgive Selby-Harrison for letting you in for those severe penalties.” “There wasn’t a bit of harm in what he said. It was nearly all out of the Bible and the ancient Fathers of the Church and Councils and things. It couldn’t have been simony. You have his letter, haven’t you, Hilda? Read it out.” Hilda opened the small bag she always carries and took out the letter. It looked to me a very long one. “I don’t know,” I said, “that Selby-Harrison’s letter really matters unless you read it out to the Archdeacon.” “We didn’t get the chance,” said Lalage, “although we meant to.” “Then you needn’t read it to me.” “We must. Otherwise you won’t know why we went to see the Archdeacon.” “Couldn’t you give me in a few words a general idea of the contents of the letter?” “You do that, Hilda,” said Lalage. “It was nothing,” said Hilda, “but a list of the things a bishop ought to be.” “Qualifications for the office,” said Lalage. “And you went over to the Archdeacon to find out whether he came up to the standard. I’m beginning to understand.” “I thought at the time,” said Hilda, “that it was rather cheek.” “It was,” I said, “but it doesn’t seem to me, so far, to amount to actual simony.”