"Third, I hear he agrees with everything one says."

"You hear? You've not talked to him yourself, then?"

Mrs. Combermere raised her head as the door opened and the tea came in.

"No. I've only seen him in Cathedral. But I've called, and he's coming to-
day."

Miss Stiles smiled in her own dark and mysterious way.

"Well, Betsy, my dear, I leave you to find it all out for yourself.... I
keep my secrets."

"If you do," said Mrs. Combermere, getting up and going to the tea-table,
"it's the first time you ever have. _And_ Ellen," she went on, "I've
a bone to pick. I won't have you laughing at my dear Archdeacon."

"Laughing at your Archdeacon?" Miss Stiles' voice was softer and slower
than any complaining cow's.

"Yes. I hear you've all been laughing about the elephant. That was a thing
that might have happened to any one."

Puddifoot laughed. "The point is, though, that it happened to Brandon.
That's the joke. _And_ his new top hat."

"Well, I won't have it. Milk, doctor? Miss Dobell and I agree that it's a
shame."