"We have sent away the soup, but there is some cold meat on the side, I believe. Katharine, do be seated instead of romping round the room like that! Your father can see to himself," was all that Miss Esther said. "Yes, Esther," said the Rector submissively; and he helped himself to some apple pie, and sat thoughtfully with the knife in his hand until Katharine came and replaced it with a fork. "It is a windy night," he continued, as no one seemed inclined to say anything. Miss Esther was waiting for her opportunity, and Katharine had caught the infection of her mood, and was again absorbed in her book on the hearthrug. "Tom Eldridge came up about his dying wife, and Jones's baby is no better," said Miss Esther, presently. "Dear, dear! how very unfortunate!" observed the Rector, smiling. "I said you must have been detained unexpectedly," continued Miss Esther, with more emphasis. "They seemed very much in want of a little counsel." "I'm certain they weren't," said Katharine audibly. "Eldridge wanted some more port wine, and Mrs. Jones came to see what she could get. And I don't fancy either of them got it." "Very unfortunate!" said the Rector again. "I was certainly detained, Esther, as you cleverly divined,--unavoidably detained." "People," said Miss Esther, very distinctly, "who have spiritual brothers and sisters depending upon them, have no right to be detained." "I never can think," put in Katharine, "how any one has the courage to be a clergyman. It simply means having crowds of relations, dull, sordid, grasping relations, who come and rob you systematically in the name of the Lord." "A spiritual man," continued Miss Esther, without heeding the interruption, "is not--" "Oh, auntie," implored Katharine, "do let daddy eat his supper in peace." "My child," interposed the Rector gently, "I have finished my supper. Does Eldridge expect me to do anything to-night, Esther? Or Mrs. Jones?" "My dear Cyril," said Miss Esther sternly, "if your own instincts do not prompt you to do anything, I should say they had better go untended." The Rector sighed, and played with his knife. He was looking like a schoolboy in disgrace. Katharine gave a scornful little laugh. "What _is_ the good of making all that fuss over a trifle? Just as though the cough of Jones's baby were half as important as the genuine rat-tail daddy has picked up at Walker's!" The murder was out, and Miss Esther put down her knitting and prepared for a characteristic outburst. But the Rector had already unwrapped his treasure and placed it on the table before him, and her bitterest reproaches fell unheeded on his ears. "Genuine sixteenth century," he murmured, as he stroked it reverently with his long, thin fingers. "Only yesterday," said the strident voice of his sister, "you were telling me you had no money for a soup kitchen. It was a poor living, you said; and now-- How can you set such an example,--you with a mission in life?"