“Yes—­just so.”  The minister’s manner was absent.  “The fact is I wish very much to speak with your mother regarding a certain matter.  Not the matter we have been discussing, we will say no more of that, but a matter of great importance to—­er—­to me.  The importance is such indeed that I doubt if I am justified in delaying longer if you have no idea of when I may expect to see her.”

Had Esther been noticing she must have remarked the unusual agitation of his manner, but Esther was not noticing.

“Is it anything you could discuss with me?” she asked innocently.  “Mother cares less and less for business.  Unless it is something quite private she will probably turn it over to me in any case.”

“But this is not—­er—­a matter of business.  Not exactly.  Not a business matter at all, in fact.  It is a matter which—­”

“Oh, there you are!” Miss Annabel’s voice was breathless but gratified and free from the faintest suspicion of having arrived, as usual, at exactly the wrong moment.  “Are you showing Esther the new rose, Angus?  Such a disappointment, Esther, my dear!  I had quite made up my mind that it was to be red.  It came out pink, and such a beautifully strong plant—­such a waste!  I simply can’t make myself care for pink roses.  They are so common.  Was I very long?  You must both be starved.  I know I am.  Won’t you come upstairs, Esther, and put off your hat?”

Esther intimated that she would.  Just now, she had no desire for the further company of Mr. Macnair.  She was conscious even of a faint stirring of dislike.  Therefore the eagerness with which she followed Miss Annabel filled that good lady with hospitable reproach.

“I didn’t intend to be so long,” she apologised, “but you know what choir-leaders are?  And Angus won’t speak to him.  I can’t make Angus out lately.  Tell me,” abruptly, as they stood in the cool front room with its closed green shutters, “did you notice anything peculiar about Angus?”

“No,” in surprise, “is he peculiar?”

“Quite.  He’s getting fussy.  He never used to be fussy.  The trouble was to induce him to be fussy enough.  Except over church matters.  But this morning he was just like an ordinary man.  About his collar” (Miss Annabel had a fascinating habit of disjointing her sentences anywhere) “nothing suited him.  And you know, Esther, what care I always take with his collars.  He said they were too shiny.  Of course they’re shiny.  Why not?  He said he noticed that men weren’t wearing shine on their collars now.  Fancy that!”

“Not really?” Esther’s fresh laugh rang out.

“Well, words to that effect.  He asked me if I wanted to make him a laughing stock before the congregation.  Did you ever?  And he banged the door!”

“Does he not bang doors usually?”

“Never.  And he banged it hard.  It shook the house.”

“But people have to bang doors, hard, sometimes, even ministers.  I wouldn’t worry if I were you.  It probably did him the world of good.  As for the collars—­he may have been noticing Dr. Callandar’s.  Mrs. Sykes says the doctor sends all his laundry to the city.”