But, anyhow, Mr. Black was sufficiently good-looking to be called handsome in a countryside where young unmarried men were rare as water ousels. He was tall and erect, and being rather clumsily built, showed to great advantage in a surplice. In a procession of clergy you would probably have picked out Mr. Black at once as its most impressive figure. He was what the Miss Blinketts called "stately." When you looked closely at him you saw that his nose was a size too large, that his head and ears and hands and feet were all a size too large for him. But the general impression was pleasant, partly because he always looked as if he had that moment emerged as speckless as his surplices from Mrs. Nicholls' washtub. It was an open secret that Mrs. Nicholls thought but little of Miss Black, "who wasn't so to call a lady, and washed her flannels at home." But she had a profound admiration for the Vicar, though I fear if the truth were known it was partly because he "set off a surplice so as never was." Mr. Black allowed his thoughtful expression to lighten to a grave smile as he walked on beside Annette, determined that on this occasion he would not be commonplace or didactic, as he feared he had been after the boot and shoe club. He was under the illusion, because he had so often said so, that he seldom took the trouble to do himself justice socially. It might be as well to begin now. "Are you on your way to choir practice?" "What a question! Of course I am." "Have you had tea?" "No." "Neither have I. Do come to the Vicarage first, and Angela will give us some." "Angela" was Miss Black. Annette could not find any reason for refusing. "Thank you. I will come with pleasure." "I would rather go without any meal than tea." Mr. Black felt as he said it that this sentiment was _for him_ inadequate, but he was relieved that Annette did not appear to find it so. She smiled and said-- "It certainly is the pleasantest meal in the day." At this moment, the Miss Blinketts and I saw, as I have already told you, the legs of the Vicar pass up the lane outlined against a lilac skirt. We watched them pass in silence, and then Miss Blinkett said solemnly-- "If anything should come of that, if he should eventually make up his mind to marry, I consider Annette would be in every way a worthy choice." "Papa was always against a celibate clergy," said Miss Amy, as if that settled the question. Annette and her possible future had nearly reached the Vicarage when a dogcart passed them which she recognized as the one she had seen at Red Riff. The man in it waved his hand to Mr. Black. "That was Mr. Reginald Stirling, the novelist," Mr. Black volunteered. "The man who wrote _The Magnet_?" "Yes. He has rented Noyes Court from Lady Louisa. I hear he never attends divine service at Noyes, but I am glad to say he has been to Riff several times lately. I am afraid Bartlett's sermons are not calculated to attract an educated man."