As I entered, two figures jumped from the shadow of a tapestried alcove
with gasps of fright.

"Ramsay!"

It was Rebecca, the prim monkey, blushing a deal more than her
innocence warranted, with a solemn-countenanced gentleman of the cloth
scowling from behind.

"When--when--did you come?" she asked, all in a pretty flutter that set
her dimples atrembling; and she forgot to give me welcome.

"Now--exactly on the minute!"

"Why--why--didn't you give us warning?" stammered Rebecca, putting out
one shy hand.

At that I laughed outright; but it was as much the fashion for
gentlemen of the cloth to affect a mighty solemnity in those days as it
was for the laity to let out an oath at every other word, and the young
divine only frowned sourly at my levity.

"If--if--if you'd only given us warning," interrupts Rebecca.

"Faith, Rebecca, an you talk of warning, I'll begin to think you needed
it----"

"To give you welcome," explains Rebecca. Then recovering herself, she
begs, with a pretty bobbing courtesy, to make me known to the Reverend
Adam Kittridge.