"There is no haste, Mr. Ames. I have suffered all my life from the ill-considered and hurried work of professional men. Even the clergy--and I have enjoyed the acquaintance of many--are quite reckless in giving opinions. I once asked the Bishop of Waxahaxie--was it Waxahaxie, Cecilia, or Tallahassee?--well, it does n't matter anyhow--whether he honestly believed there are no women angels. He replied with unusual frankness for one in holy orders that he did n't know, but added that he was sure there are angel women. Just for that impertinence I cut in two my subscription to his cathedral building-fund. When I ask an expert opinion of an educated person I don't intend to be put off with mere persiflage. And to return to my chimneys, I beg that you give me the result of your most serious deliberations. At this hour I ride; Cecilia, will you dress immediately and accompany me?" She disappeared at once and I stared mutely after her. I am by no means an idler, and this cool indifference to the value of my time would ordinarily have enraged me; but I believe I laughed, and when I turned to Cecilia I found her smiling. "I 'm glad, Mr. Ames, that you are a person of humor. My aunt's conduct verifies what I said to you last night--that the flues in this house have given us no trouble; that they have indeed had little chance to do so in the short time we have spent here. It is true that this one acted queerly last night, and I have wondered about its temporary sulkiness a good deal. It will be well, of course, for you to go over it, and all the others in the house. It is no joke that my aunt is a believer in thoroughness, and one of these days, when she is ready to talk of chimneys, she will subject you to a most rigid examination." "One of these days? Why, I have looked at the time-table, and it is my present intention to take the 12:03 into town. I have appointments at my office for the afternoon. I assure you, Miss Hollister, that I 'm a man of engagements, particularly at this season." I remembered what Jewett had told me of Fortner, the painter, and his detention at Newport by Miss Octavia Hollister. I had no intention of being immured in any such fashion, and I was about to protest further when Cecilia took a step toward me, and after a glance at the door spoke in a low tone and with great earnestness. "Mr. Ames, I have every reason to believe that you are a gentleman, and in that confident belief I 'm going to ask a favor of you. You have said that you know Mr. Hartley Wiggins well." "I know no man better. You might not have inferred it from his manner last night, but he was undoubtedly surprised and embarrassed by my presence, and did not act quite like himself."' "I think I understand the cause of that. If I should ask you to see him to-day and give him a message for me, could you do so?"