"I do indeed, dear madam," replied the curate. "We have already accomplished much, but there is yet an abundant field of work in the place. I am very happy here." "I have a dreadful communication to make to you, Mr. Puffin. A member of the congregation has confided to me the disgraceful fact of her personal infatuation for my husband's curate." "This is sad, Mrs. Dodd, this is very sad; but it is not wholly unexpected. Clergymen, as you are aware, dear madam, are constantly exposed to these annoyances in the course of their ministrations. You allude, I conclude, to the younger Miss Sleek. I have noticed latterly her marked assiduity in attendance at church--the most unseasonable weather has failed to keep her away. I half feared that it would be so. Alas, girls are apt to forget the priest in the man. But this is a new kind of experience to me, Mrs. Dodd, for I have found that they usually first confide their folly to the object of their aspirations." "No, Mr. Puffin, it is not Miss Sleek to whom I allude; nothing would surprise me with regard to her. There is no folly that young persons in her class of life might not be guilty of. It is not the younger Miss Sleek, though she is an ambitious girl, but the squire's near relative who has confessed a wicked passion for my husband's curate." "Gracious me," cried Mr. Puffin. "Can you possibly allude to young Mrs. Haggard?" "Mr. Puffin, you forget yourself. No, it is Miss Warrender who has confided to me her infamous secret." Mr. Puffin turned pale, then he blushed to the roots of his hair; he sighed deeply, and then he simpered. The vicar's wife drummed impatiently upon the table. "Oh, Mr. Puffin," she said, "you don't mean to say that you reciprocate this? How often have you protested to me that you were a Celibate, a priest; and now you do nothing but sit and snigger. I'm grieved; I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Puffin." "Dear Mrs. Dodd," said the poor parson, "your communication has taken me by surprise. At first it horrified me. I am a priest, Mrs. Dodd," he said, "it is true; but, alas, I also remember that I am a man." He buried his face in his hands. Mrs. Dodd sat immovable, looking at the curate with an astonished gaze; and then she suddenly left the room and slammed the door violently. The transformation was as thorough as it was sudden; the Reverend Barnes Puffin had entered that room the humble coadjutor of the vicar's wife; as he left it, he felt his soul soar into higher regions: as Orientals put it, "his head was touching the skies." Mrs. Dodd looked out of her breakfast room window to watch the departure of him who she mentally termed "the fallen man."