one drawback in her eyes, he retained his passion, his innocent passion, for the fair sex. At the shrine of beauty he remained a constant and ecstatic worshipper. This was Mrs. Dodd's cross, and she had to bear it. An idle life at King's Warren Parsonage, and frequent dinner parties, for the Reverend John Dodd was a popular man, had caused Handsome Jack to expand into a very Falstaff. Alas, anxiety had had precisely the reverse effect upon the vicar's wife. The once statuesque "Judith" had disappeared, and Mrs. Dodd's characteristics were now high principle and bone. "Busy as usual, my dear," said the vicar to his wife, as he proceeded to welcome each member of the female bevy in turn, devoting perhaps a little more time than was necessary to handsome Miss Warrender and her cousin. Mrs. Dodd closed the thick black book with a slap. "I suppose work is over now for the day; you really should not intrude on our Dorcas, John," she said in a severe tone. "My dear, it is my duty to encourage my parishioners in good works, nay, it is my pleasure," replied the parson. "No one doubts it, Mr. Dodd," said the vicaress in an icy manner. But Mrs. Dodd was evidently in a minority. The ladies crowded round their popular vicar. It is easy to spoil a man, and the Reverend John Dodd had been much spoilt by his parishioners, and seemed to like the process. And now a whispered conference took place between the Misses Sleek. With smiles and conscious blushes, the elder sister addressed the vicar. "Oh, dear Mr. Dodd, we do so want you to do us a favour," she faltered. "Granted, my dear young lady, granted before it is asked." Mrs. Dodd vainly sought to fix her husband with a freezing look, and gazed appealingly at old Mrs. Wurzel, but that experienced matron had been present at many similar scenes, and was rather amused than otherwise, to watch the discomfiture of the vicar's imperious wife. Mrs. Wurzel's eagle eye detected the little parcel which the younger Miss Sleek hesitatingly attempted to hold towards the vicar. "It is our own work, dear Mr. Dodd," she said, "and we hope, we do hope, we do _so_ hope that you will accept them." "And wear them too," chimed in her sister. In an elaborate box, from which Miss Sleek rapidly tore the paper in which it was wrapped, and hurriedly opened, lay a dozen bands of the latest ecclesiastical fashion. "Oh ladies, dear ladies, so you equip your faithful knight for the fray; accept my grateful thanks, my very grateful thanks," sighed the vicar. "So pleased you like them, dear Mr. Dodd," chorused the stockbroker's daughters. The triumphs of decorative millinery were passed from hand to hand. "They never made these," muttered old Mrs. Wurzel to herself, as she critically held one up to the light. "The minxes," she inwardly added. Mrs. Wurzel was quite right; they had been supplied, regardless of cost, from Messrs. Rochet and Stole's well-known establishment.