"Oh, no," faltered poor Mrs. Vincent, whom prudence kept from adding, "heaven forbid!" "They--did not know I was here," she continued, faintly, turning away to ring the bell. Mr. Beecher, who flattered himself on his penetration, nodded slightly when her back was turned. "Jealous that they've asked me," said the preacher, with a lively thrill of human satisfaction. How was he to know the blank of misery, the wretched feverish activity of thought, that possessed that mild little woman, as she gave her orders about the removal of the tray, and the dinner which already was being prepared for the stranger? But the lively young man from 'Omerton perceived that there was something wrong. Vincent's black looks when he met him at the door, and the exceeding promptitude of that invitation to tea, were two and two which he could put together. He concluded directly that the pastor, though he had made "an 'it," was not found to suit the connection in Carlingford; and that possibly another candidate for Salem might be required ere long. "I would not injure Vincent for the world," he said to himself, "but if he does not 'it it, I might." The thought was not unpleasant. Accordingly, while Vincent's mother kept her place there in the anguish of her heart, thinking that perhaps, even in this dreadful extremity, she might be able to do something for Arthur with his people, and conciliate the authorities, her guest was thinking, if Vincent were to leave Carlingford, what a pleasant distance from town it was, and how very encouraging of the Tozers to ask him to tea. It might come to something more than preaching for a friend; and if Vincent did not "'it it," and a change were desirable, nobody could tell what might happen. All this smiling fabric the stranger built upon the discomposed looks of the Vincents and Phoebe's invitation to tea.