"I admit that, Rupert. Had I lived in monastic days, I should have been a hermit or a monk. My wants are few, and I do not seek the loaves and fishes of ecclesiastical preferment. The services of the church; occasional visits to my parishioners and giving of what alms my small means allow are my duties as a Clerk in Holy Orders. But what time otherwise is at my disposal I give to books, to the examination of old buildings, to the study of ancient customs, and such-like matters. You see I am frank, Mr. Carrington." "And very original," said the barrister heartily, "it is a great pleasure to meet one whose views are other than commonplace. And what a tremendous number of books you have." "You are like that clergyman in Scott's novel, _St. Ronan's Well_," said Hendle, removing his pipe for a moment. "What's his name--Cargill." "I never waste my hours reading novels," said Leigh loftily. "I should think they would be more entertaining than these parchments," suggested Carrington, looking at the writing table, which was littered profusely with dusty documents covered with crabbed characters. "No! No! No!" cried Leigh vivaciously, and laid a thin hand on his beloved dry-as-dust pamphlets. "Nothing can be more entertaining than deciphering these deeds. Leases and proclamations, accounts and registrations: all of various reigns and all written in the dog Latin of knightly days. And it ill becomes you, Rupert," added the vicar in a mildly jesting way, "to reproach me with my besetting sin, when you pander to it by permitting me access to your Muniment Room." "Muniment Room," echoed the barrister. "It would not interest you, Mr. Carrington, believe me," said the vicar jealously, "as young men do not care to inspect such treasures. I can tell you all about the most interesting documents and can show you what is worthy of note, if indeed you care for such lofty learning. But don't meddle with the chest and its contents, I beg. They are too valuable to be lightly handled." Rupert laughed and nodded. "I believe that Mr. Leigh grudges even me meddling with the deeds and documents. He thinks that I am an unworthy guardian of such literary treasures." "I think they are quite safe," said Carrington, looking with disdain on the time-worn and soiled parchments rustling under the vicar's thin fingers. "No one will seek to deprive Mr. Leigh of his weary delights." "Weary! Ah, my dear sir, you don't know what joy it is to pore over these glorious relics of monkish days. They give in wonderful detail the history of Barship, when it was quite a noted port." "Port? Why, it's an inland parish." "Now it is," cried the vicar eagerly and now settled in the saddle of his hobby-horse, "but in the reign of Henry III, Barship was built round a commodious harbor. The sea has retired these many miles, and the village which was once a bustling town is now scarcely known." "Well, I must say that information is very interesting," said Carrington.