The Archdeacon had, as I have already said, a sense of fun. He saw, for
the first time, the humour of the thing. He began to laugh; he laughed
more loudly; laughter overtook him altogether, and he roared and roared
again, sitting there, his hands on his knees, until the tears ran down his
cheek.

"Oh dear...my hat...an elephant...Did you ever hear----? My best hat...!"
The Dean was compelled to laugh too, although, being a shy and hesitating
man, he was not able to do it very heartily. Young Mr. Wilton laughed,
but in such a way as to show that he knew his place and was ready to be
serious at once if his superiors wished it. Even old Mr. Bennett laughed
as distantly and gently as befitted his great age.

Brandon was conscious of Ronder. He had, in fact, been conscious of him
from the very instant of his first perception of him. He was giving
himself away before their new Canon; he thought that the new Canon,
although he was smiling pleasantly and was standing with becoming modesty
in the background, looked superior....

The Archdeacon pulled himself up with a jerk. After all, it was nothing of
a joke. A multitude of townspeople had seen him in a most ludicrous
position, had seen him start back in terror before a tame elephant, had
seen him frightened and hatless. No, there was nothing to laugh about.

"An elephant?" repeated the Dean, still gently laughing.

"Yes, an elephant," answered Brandon rather testily. That was enough of
the affair, quite enough. "Well, I must be getting back. See you to-
morrow, Dean."