“No,” said Mr Bunker, pleasantly; “I should imagine your own doctrines were not apt to err on the sentimental side.” “I am not aware that I have said anything to you about my—doctrines, as you call them, Mr Butler.” “Still, don’t you think one can generally tell a man’s creed from his coat, and his sympathies from the way he cocks his hat?” “I think,” replied Mr Duggs, “that our ideas of our vocation are somewhat different.” “Mine is, I admit,” said Mr Bunker, who had come to the conclusion that the strain of playing his part was really too great, and was now being happily carried along by his tongue. Mr Duggs for a moment was evidently disposed to give battle, but thinking better of it, he contented himself with frowning at his younger opponent, and abruptly changed the subject. “May I ask what position you hold in the church, Mr Butler?” “Why,” began Mr Bunker, lightly: it was on the tip of his tongue to say “a clergyman, of course,” when he suddenly recollected that he might be anything from the rank of curate up to the people who wear gaiters (and who these were precisely he didn’t know). An ingenious solution suggested itself. He replied with a preliminary inquiry, “Have you ever been in the East, Mr Duggs?” “I regret to say I have not hitherto had the opportunity.” “Thank the Lord for that,” thought Mr Bunker. “I have been a missionary,” he said quietly, and looked dreamily into the fire. It was a happy move. Mr Duggs was visibly impressed. “Ah?” he said. “Indeed? I am much interested to learn this, Mr Butler. It—ah—gives me perhaps a somewhat different view of your—ah—opinions. Where did your work lie?” “China,” replied Mr Bunker, thinking it best to keep as far abroad as possible. “Ha!” exclaimed Mr Duggs. “This is really extremely fortunate. I am at present, Mr Butler, studying the religions and customs of China at the British Museum, with a view to going out there myself very shortly. I already feel I know almost as much about that most interesting country as if I had lived there. I should like to talk with you at some length on the subject.” Mr Bunker saw that it was time to put an end to this conversation, at whatever minor risk of perturbing his visitor. He had been a little alarmed, too, by noticing that Mr Duggs’ dull eye had wandered frequently to his theological library, which with his usual foresight he had strewn conspicuously on the table, and that any expression it had was rather of suspicious curiosity than gratification. “I should like to hear some of your experiences,” Mr Duggs continued. “In what province did you work?”