“She is my ghostess,” said I, very divertingly I thought; so divertingly that I was seized by a barely controllable desire to indulge in open mirth. Edelgard, however, with the blank incomprehension of the droll so often to be observed in women, did not so much as smile. “Otto,” said she, “you absolutely _must_----” “Must, dear wife,” said I with returning gravity, “is a word no woman of tact ever lets her husband hear. I see no must why I, being who I am, should request an introduction to a Frau Pastor. I would not in Storchwerder. Still less will I at Frog’s Hole Farm.” “But you are her guest----” “I am not. I came.” “But it is so nice of her to allow you to come.” “It is not niceness. She is delighted at the honour.” “But Otto, you simply _can’t_----” I was about to move off definitely to the corner where Frau von Eckthum sat helpless in the talons of Jellaby when who should enter the door just in front of which Edelgard was wrangling but the creature I had last parted from on unfriendly terms in the church a few hours before. Attired this time from chin to boots in a long and narrow buttoned-down black garment suggestive of that of the Pope’s priests, with a gold cross dangling on his chest, his eye immediately caught mine and the genial smile of the party-giver with which he had come in died away. Evidently he had been there earlier, for Edelgard as though she were well acquainted with him darted forward (where, alas, remained the dignity of the well-born?) and very officiously introduced me to him. Me to him, observe. “Let me,” said my wife, “introduce my husband, Baron Ottringel.” And she did. It was of course the pastor who ought to have been introduced to me on such neutral ground as an impromptu ball-room, but Edelgard had, as the caravan tour lengthened, acquired the habit of using the presence of a third person in order to do as she chose, with no reference whatever to my known wishes. This is a habit specially annoying to a man of my disposition, peppery perhaps, but essentially _bon enfant_, who likes to get his cautions and reprimands over and done with and forgotten, rather than be forced to allow them to accumulate and brood over them indefinitely. Rendered helpless by my own good breeding--a quality which leads to many a discomfort in life--I was accordingly introduced for all the world as though I were the inferior, and could only show my sensibility of the fact by a conspicuous stiffening. “Otto thinks it is so very kind of you to let us come in,” said Edelgard, all smiles and with an augmentation of officiousness and defiance of me that was incredible. “I am glad you were able to,” replied the pastor looking at me, politeness in his voice and chill in his eye. It was plain the creature was still angry because, in church, I would not pray. “You are very good,” said I, bowing with at least an equal chill.