"It's so tiresome," exclaimed Salis testily; "busy as I am this morning--letters to write. I must answer this last letter of May's. More complaints--more complaints! Oh, what a wretched curate he has got!" Mary looked up from her seat, with her gentle smile, for she knew how the harsh crystals of annoyance would melt away with the first cup of tea, and her brother be all smiles again. "Wouldn't you like to begin, dear?" "Begin? Without Leo! You know, Mary, how particular she is, and how she would feel it as a slight. Tut--tut--tut! How late she is! Mrs Berens, too, been writing. Do you know, Mary, I wish that woman would leave the place!" "She is not likely to, Hartley," said Mary, who was propped up with cushions at the head of the table, having lately taken her old place once more; "and she is very kind and good." "Yes, that's the worst of it," said Salis grimly. "If she were a disagreeable old harridan, it would not matter so much. Oh! here she comes." Leo came quickly into the breakfast-room, looking strained about the eyes, to cross to Mary, put down her right cheek to be kissed, and then to go to her brother, extend him her hand, and lower her left cheek for a second salute. "That's right, dear," said Salis cheerily; "but you are terribly late. I'm so busy this morning." "Why did you not begin?" said Leo, as she languidly took her place. "Without you? Not likely. Pour out, Mary, dear. Why, Leo--not well?" "Not well?" she said, repeating his words calmly enough. "I am quite well, dear." "But you look--" "As if I had overslept myself," said Leo quietly. "Any letters?" "Yes. One sent on by Mrs Berens about the parish poor. Must bring that up this morning. One from May. That wicked old man! I know he keeps on with this persecution--there, I can call it nothing else--on purpose to get me to resign." "And you will not resign, Hartley," said Leo; "you will set him at defiance." "I don't know. I do love a quiet life, and I cannot get it. Now, here's this morning. Letters to write--more tea, Mary. Ten-o'clock meeting in the vestry." "Ah!" "Why, Leo, dear!" cried the curate, half starting from his chair, while Mary gazed wonderingly at her sister. "There's nothing the matter, good people," said Leo contemptuously. "A touch of toothache! The weather, I suppose." "You quite startled me," said Salis cheerily. "Visit to the dentist imminent, my dear. Let's see, where was I? Oh, yes! Vestry meeting at ten," he continued, turning to a memorandum-book; "Sir Thomas Candlish to preside, by special request." Leo's face was ghastly, but she mastered her emotions by a tremendous effort of will; and, rising from her seat, she fetched a book from the sideboard, opened it as she returned to her place, and went on reading with her breakfast.