him with briny tears, to communicate to her what had taken place in that secret interview. All she could extract from him was, that she should know all about it at breakfast time. She even tried guessing, but each guess was more wildly improbable, and wider of the mark than the last; her final suggestion was a rather barbed arrow though. "John," she said in a hissing whisper, with a vicious nudge, to the poor vicar, who was vainly seeking sleep for the twentieth time. "You may keep it from me if you will, John, but I've guessed your dreadful secret. Yes," she added with a succession of sobs, "I've guessed it at last; the boo-boo-bishop is going to sequestrate your living on the ground of your weakened intellect." But Dodd only chuckled, or rather "chortled," in his amusement, as he buried his face in his pillow. The next morning Mrs. Dodd, as was her custom, entered the breakfast-room first. She took up the _Thunderer_, and she performed her natural duty as a woman, and went carefully through the list of births, deaths and marriages; and then she came upon the inspired article to which we have alluded. At first the paper dropped from her fingers, and then her face was illumined by a smile of triumph. The neat parlour-maid was just placing the hissing urn upon the table. "Jane," said Mrs. Dodd, "in future when addressing your master, be good enough to say, 'my lord.' You can inform the others of what I wish done." The girl dropped Mrs. Dodd a low courtesy, stared at her, and then stammered out, "Yes, my lady." So grateful was this speech to Mrs. Dodd's feelings that she hadn't the heart to correct the girl; she merely smiled blandly and smoothed her cap ribbons. The Reverend John Dodd entered the room at the moment; he sniffed and rubbed his hands, for ambrosial odours from the kitchen reached his nostrils. His wife sprang to her feet, and rushing into his arms after the manner of long-lost daughters upon the stage, she buried her face in his M.B. waistcoat. "John, dear John," she said through her tears of joy, as she gazed up at his great round smiling visage, "let me be the first to congratulate you on your well-deserved honours." She snatched up the newspaper and waved it wildly in the air. "I've read it all, John, and they've put it _so_ nicely. Little did I dream last night when I spoke to you so irreverently, for I shall revere you now, John, that I was speaking to a bishop. Oh, John," she continued, clapping her hands in a girlish manner, "'tis such a becoming dress, and so, so delightfully exclusive." "Calm yourself, Cecilia," said Dodd, who feared the shock would be too much for her. "Calm yourself, Cecilia, dear. I'm plain Jack Dodd still; they did offer it me yesterday, but I refused it."