“Why, Cole, I am deuced glad you took my advice,” cried the Colonel, advancing with outstretched hand and with a kind of hearty good fellowship that pleased Mr. Cole, and yet frightened him a little. He was a good soul and divided his small salary with his mother, but he thought Colonel Berkeley’s society rather dangerous for a clergyman. He used too many expletives, and was altogether too free in his notions of what a churchman should be--for the Colonel was a stanch churchman, and would have sworn like a pirate at anybody who questioned his orthodoxy. “Doing missionary work, hay, Mr. Cole?” continued Colonel Berkeley, while Olivia and Mr. Cole shook hands. A faint pink mounted into the clergyman’s face. His curiosity had got the better of him, but the excellent little man fancied it was his Christian charity that won the victory. “Well, Colonel,” he begun, “upon reflection I concluded it was my duty to call on Madame Koller. I wasn’t in this parish--in fact, I wasn’t ordained at the time Madame Koller was Miss Eliza Peyton, and Madame Schmidt was Mrs. Edward Peyton. And being the niece of my excellent friend--Mrs. Sally Peyton--” “Excellent friend, eh--well, don’t you trust Sally Peyton too far, my good fellow. She was a mighty uncertain kind of a friend thirty or forty years ago--not that I have any particular reason for saying so. But you are quite right in paying your respects to Eliza Peyton--I mean Madame Koller, and I only hope she’ll find our society agreeable enough to stay here.” A considerable wait ensued. Olivia had begun to wonder how long it took Madame Koller to make a complete toilet, when a white hand moved the curtain from a doorway, and noiselessly and gently Madame Koller entered. She was heartily glad to see them--their call was not very prompt, but it would have been a cruel mortification had they omitted to come. Olivia’s hand she pressed--so she did the Colonel’s--and also Mr. Cole’s, who colored quite violently, although he struggled for self-possession. “We are very glad you have come,” said Olivia, with her sweetest affability, “you will be a great acquisition to the neighborhood. You see, I am already beginning to think more of our own neighborhood than all the rest of the universe.” “Thank you for your kindness,” answered Madame Koller, with equal cordiality. The two women, however, did not cease to examine each other like gladiators. “And Mr. Cole, I think you were not here when I lived at The Beeches as a girl.” “No, madam,” replied Mr. Cole, who had now shaded from a red to a pink. “And did I not have the pleasure of seeing you at the Campdown races the other day?” Mr. Cole turned pale and nearly dropped off his chair. The Colonel roared out his pleasant cheery laugh. “No madam, you did not.” Mr. Cole made his denial so emphatic that he was ashamed of himself for it afterwards.