smiling very broadly with tight lips, and his face was turned towards
the ceiling. His fingers were very tense and busy on his lap, as though
he were still fidgeting with magic. But her study of him was interrupted
by the loud denouncing voice of the very venerable man who had led the
procession of late-comers.

"A dog in this hallowed place," he said, pointing at the deeply
disconcerted Rupert who was weaving himself nervously in and out of his
master's legs. "Never in all the forty years of my ministration here
have I allowed such an outrage----"

"Gently, gently, my dear sir," protested the Vicar, a little roused. "I
am the minister of this church, and the dog is mine. I was indeed about
to turn it out when you entered, after which I lost sight of it for a
moment. Rupert, go home."

Rupert howled again, and lay down as if about to faint.

"Forty years have I been Vicar of this parish," said the veteran, "and
never----"

"What?" interrupted the Vicar, "Forty years Vicar of this parish. Then
you must be Canon Burstley-Ripp. How very extraordinary, I always
understood that he passed away quite ten years ago."

He approached the old man and strove to button-hole him. The sheet at
first foiled him in this intention, but he presently contented himself
with seizing a little corner of it, by which he led his aged brother
vicar into a corner. There they could be heard for some time
misunderstanding each other in low earnest tones.