are ejected with good reason from respectable society, and,--it
behooves me not to speak of their names."

"Oh, indeed!" said Errington, while a sudden and inexplicable thrill
of indignation fired his blood and sent it in a wave of color up to
his forehead--"May I ask--"

But he was interrupted by Lorimer, who, nudging him slyly on one
side, muttered, "Keep cool, old fellow! You can't tell whether he's
talking about the Guldmar folk! Be quiet--you don't want every one
to know your little game."

Thus adjured, Philip swallowed a large gulp of wine, to keep down
his feelings, and strove to appear interested in the habits and
caprices of bees, a subject into which Mr. Dyceworthy had just
inveigled Duprez and Macfarlane.

"Come and see my bees," said the Reverend Charles almost
pathetically. "They are emblems of ever-working and patient
industry,--storing up honey for others to partake thereof."

"They wudna store it up at a', perhaps, if they knew that," observed
Sandy significantly.

Mr. Dyceworthy positively shone all over with beneficence.

"They WOULD store it up, sir; yes, they would, even if they knew! It
is God's will that they should store it up; it is God's will that
they should show an example of unselfishness, that they should flit
from flower to flower sucking therefrom the sweetness to impart into