They were married—of course, by Mr. Clare—in time to permit Franz’s return to take part in a musical festival in B——, and departed together, very happy, though amid some tears from Polly, promising to return in a few years at most. CHAPTER III. PANSIES. It was shortly before the wedding, during the prevalence of a “cool wave,” that Mr. Clare gave a “tea-party,” as Miss Sally called it. The “tea” consisted of coffee and small cakes, and the party was characterized by Dr. Richards, when he was invited to cast an eye over the list of guests, as likely to result as did the celebrated meeting of the Kilkenny cats. For it included not only Father McClosky, Pastor Schaefer, and the Rector of St. Andrew’s, but also a very High Church divine from North Micklegard who had recently got into trouble with his bishop by a too promiscuous use of certain technical phrases, a noted evangelist, and a Temperance lecturer. More than this number the room would not conveniently hold; and it must be admitted that, although they passed the time of day and discussed the recent flood as amicably as was to have been expected from men vowed to the service of humanity, there lurked in the corner of each reverend eye such a “say unto me Shibboleth,” that their host congratulated himself more than once upon the mollifying influence of the “cool wave,” and glanced appreciatingly at Father McClosky, who, strong in his hold upon the Rock of St. Peter, balanced his rotund person upon the hind-legs of his chair, and told anecdotes worthy of Joe Miller. At last Mr. Clare, who had been rather grave and silent for some time, rapped slightly upon the table. “My friends,” he said, “when I asked you to meet me here to-night, I mentioned my wish to discuss certain public questions, in a spirit of love and truth, with a number of representative men, who, as individuals, possess great influence over large constituencies. I will now add that these public questions have no reference to any theological dogma, or pious opinion that may be held or advocated by any of us; and, while I therefore am assured of greater unanimity than might otherwise be expected,”—here the orator smiled slightly,—“I hope for such diversity of view as may bring the truth most clearly to light.” “Ye’re a set of black-hearted Protestants, all of ye,” said Father McClosky cheerfully; “but, sure, I’ve the coffee urn forninst me, and the blacker ye get, the more I’ll drink. So drive away, me boys, ’tis not meself will pay the piper.” There was a general smile at this, and after a few references to possible vengeance wreaked by the coffee urn, in the form of dyspepsia, the High-Churchman courteously requested that Mr. Clare would state the questions upon which he desired their views.