Vennie had just passed an uncomfortable hour with her mother, who had been growing, during the recent days, more and more fretful and suspicious. It was partly to allay these suspicions and partly to escape from the maternal atmosphere that she had decided to be present that evening at the weekly choir-practice, a function that she had found herself lately beginning to neglect. Mr. Wone had forgotten the choir-practice. It would interfere, he was afraid, with his desired interview with Mr. Clavering. Vennie assured him that the clergyman’s presence was not essential at these times. “He is not musical, you know. He only walks up and down the aisle and confuses things. Everybody will be glad if you take him away.” She was a little surprised at herself, even as she spoke. To depreciate her best friend in this flippant way, and to such a person, showed that her nerves were abnormally strained. Mr. Wone did not miss the unusual tone. He had never been on anything but very distant terms with Miss Seldom, and his vanity was hugely delighted by this new manner. “I am coming into my own,” he thought to himself. “My abilities are being recognized at last, by all these exclusive people.” “I hope,” he said, tentatively, “that you and your dear mother are on our side in this great national struggle. I have just been to see Mr. Taxater, and he has promised me his energetic support.” “Has he?” said Vennie in rather a startled voice. “That surprises me--a little. I know he does not admire Mr. Romer; but I thought----” “O he is with us--heart and soul with us!” repeated the triumphant Nonconformist. “I am glad I went to him. Many of us would have been too narrow-minded to enter his house, seeing he is a papist. But I am free from such bigotry.” “And you hope to convert Mr. Clavering, too?” “Certainly; that is what I intend. But I believe our excellent vicar needs no conversion. I have often heard him speak--at the Social Meeting, you know--and I assure you he is a true friend of the working-classes. I only wish more of his kind were like him.” “Mr. Clavering is too changeable,” remarked Vennie, hardly knowing what she said. “His moods alter from day to day.” “But you yourself, dear Miss Seldom,” the candidate went on. “You yourself are, I think, entirely with us?” “I really don’t know,” she answered. “My interests do not lie in these directions. I sometimes doubt whether it greatly matters, one way or the other.”