But he did good work in the world, though probably less than he imagined. It was as an advocate of Temperance that Leonard O'Donnell was particularly known, and it was as that he was welcomed by Society. He was a sort of spiritual Karlsbad and was nicknamed the Dean of Vichy. The fact was one that had a direct bearing on Gilbert Lothian's life. The Rector of Mortland Royal was a "managing" man. His forte was to be a sort of earthly Providence to all sorts of people within his sphere, and his motive was one of genuine good nature and a wish to help. As a woman he would have been an inveterate matchmaker. Did old Marchioness, who liked to keep an eye upon her household affairs, bewail the quality of London milk--then she must have it from Mr. Samuel, the tenant of the Glebe Farm at Mortland Royal! Did a brother clergyman ask to be recommended a school for his son, the Rector knew the very place and was quite prepared to take the boy down himself and commend him specially to the Headmaster. With equal eagerness, Mr. O'Donnell would urge a confessor or a pill, and the odd thing about it was, that he was nearly always right, and all sorts of people made use of the restless, kindly little man. One day, Dr. Morton Sims, the bacteriologist and famous expert upon Inebriety, had walked from a meeting of the Royal Commissioners upon Alcoholism to the Junior Carlton with Mr. O'Donnell. Both were members and they had dined there together. "I am run down," said Morton Sims, during the meal. "I have been too much in London lately. I've got a lot of important research work to do. I'm going to take a house in the country for a few months, only I don't know where." The mind of the man occupied with big things was impatient of detail; the mind of the man occupied with small ones responded instantly. "I know of the very place, Sims. In my own village. How fortunate! The 'Haven.' Old Admiral Custance used to have it, but he's dead recently. There are six months of the lease still to run. Mrs. Custance has gone to live at Lugano. She wants to let the place furnished until the lease is up." "It sounds as if it might do." "But, my dear fellow, it's the very place you want! Exactly the thing! I can manage it for you in no time. Pashwhip and Moger--the house agents in our nearest town--have the letting. Do let me be of use!" "It's very kind of you, O'Donnell." "Delighted. It will be so jolly to have you in the village. I'm not there as much as I could wish, of course. My other work keeps me so much in London. But Medley, my colleague, is an excellent fellow. He'll look after you in every way." "Who lives round about?" "Well, as far as Society is concerned, we are a little distance from anywhere. Lord Fakenham's is the nearest house----" "Not in that way, O'Donnell. I mean interesting people. Lord Fakenham is a bore--a twelve-bore one might say. I hate the big shooting houses in East England."