She sighed gently as she thought of this, and rang the bell for tea. “I think we will have it early this afternoon,” she said, “I feel I want a cup.” CHAPTER XI. THE DOCTOR SPEAKS. The feelings with which the curate hastened on the conclusion of his own service, to learn what had happened at the great church may be imagined. His excitement and curiosity were not the less because he had to hide them. If there really had been no service—if the rector had not appeared—what a scandal, what a subject for talk was here! Even if the rector had appeared a little late there would still be whispering; for new brooms are expected to sweep clean. The curate composed his dark face, and purposely made one or two sick calls at houses which lay in his road, lest he might seem to ask the question he had to put too pointedly. By the time he reached the rectory he had made up his mind, judging from the absence of stir in the streets, that nothing very unusual had happened. “Is the rector in?” he asked the servant. “No, sir; he has gone to the Town House to dinner,” the girl answered. Involuntarily Mr. Clode frowned. “He was in time for service, I suppose?” he asked, more abruptly than he had intended. “Oh, yes, sir,” said the unconscious maid, who had not been to church. “Thank you; that is all,” he answered, turning away. So nothing had come of it after all! His heart was sick with disappointed hope as he turned into his own dull lodgings; and he felt that the rector in being in time had wronged him afresh, and by dining at the Town House had added insult to injury. But in the course of the day he learned how late the rector had been; and early next morning some rumor of the triangular altercation in the church porch also reached him—of course in an exaggerated form. As a fact, all Claversham was by this time talking of it, Mr. Bonamy’s companions, with one exception, having taken good care to make the most of his success, and to paint the rebuff he had administered to the clergyman in the deepest colors. The curate heard the news with a face of grave concern, but with secret delight; and, turning over in his mind what use he might make of it, came opportunely upon Gregg as the latter was going his rounds. “Hallo!” he said, calling so loudly that the doctor, who had turned away and would fain have retreated, could not decently escape, “you are the very man I wanted to see! What is this absurd story about the rector and you? There is not a word of truth in it, I suppose?” “I am sure I cannot say until you tell me what it is,” replied the doctor snappishly. He was a little afraid of the curate, who had a knack of being unpleasant without giving an opening in return. “Why, you seem rather sore about it,” Clode remarked, with apparent surprise. “I do not know why I should!” sneered the doctor, his face a dark red with anger.