Gregg was a little cowed by the look, and in a moment, with a muttered word or two, fidgeted himself away, cursing the general superciliousness of parsons and the quiet airs of this one in particular. He was a little dog-in-the-mangerish man, ill-bred, and, like most ill-bred men, resentful of breeding in others. The fact that he had a sneaking liking for Kate did not tend to lessen his disgustful wonder how the Bonamy girls and the new rector came to be travelling together—which, indeed, to any Claversham person would have seemed a portent. But, then, Lindo did not know that. The objectionable item removed, and the temptation to remark upon him overcome, Lindo soon recovered his good temper, and rattled away so pleasantly that the train time seemed to all of them to come very quickly. “There,” he said, as he handed the last of Kate’s books into the railway-carriage, “now I have done something to make amends for my fault, I trust. One thing more I can do. When you get home you need not spare me. You can put it all on my shoulders, Miss Bonamy.” “Thank you,” Kate answered demurely. “You are going to do so, I see,” he said, laughing. “I fear my character will reach Claversham before me.” “I do not think we shall spread it very widely,” she answered in a peculiar tone, which he naturally misunderstood. The train was already in motion then, and he shook hands with her as he walked beside it. “Goodbye,” he said. And then he added in a lower tone—he was such a very young rector—“I hope to see very much of you in the future, Miss Bonamy.” Kate sank back in her seat, her cheek a shade warmer. And in a moment he was alone upon the platform. CHAPTER V. “REGINALD LINDO, 1850.” Long before the later train by which the rector came on arrived at the Claversham station, the Rev. Stephen Clode was waiting on the platform. The curate was a tall, dark man, somewhat over thirty, with a strong rugged face and a bush of stiff black hair standing up from his forehead. He had been at Claversham three years, enjoying all the importance which old Mr. Williams’s long illness naturally gave to his curate and _locum tenens_; and, though the town was agreed that his chagrin at having a new rector set over his head was great, it must be admitted that he concealed it with admirable skill. More than one letter had passed between him and the new incumbent, and, in securing for the latter Mr. Williams’s good old-fashioned furniture, and in other ways, he had made himself very useful to Lindo. But the two had not met, and consequently the curate viewed the approaching train with lively, though secret, curiosity.