“Ach, mein Herr,” almost screamed Fraeulein, who adored Hester, and saw the gravity of the occasion, “aber Sie vergessen that the Herr Doctor Br-r-r-r-r-own has so strong—­so very strong command—­”

“I cannot allow a discussion as to the merits or demerits of alcohol at my table,” said Mr. Gresley.  “I hold one opinion, Dr. Brown holds another.  I must beg to be allowed to differ from him.  Children, say grace.”

* * * * *

It was Wednesday and a half-holiday, and Mrs. Gresley had arranged to take the children in the pony-carriage to be measured for new boots.  These expeditions to Westhope were a great event.  At two o’clock exactly the three children rushed down-stairs, Regie bearing in his hand his tin money-box, in which a single coin could be heard to leap.  Hester produced a bright threepenny-piece for each child, one of which was irretrievably buried in Regie’s money-box, and the other two immediately lost in the mat in the pony-carriage.  However, Hester found them, and slipped them inside their white gloves, and the expedition started, accompanied by Boulou, a diminutive yellow-and-white dog of French extraction.  Boulou was a well-meaning, kind little soul.  There was a certain hurried arrogance about his hind-legs, but it was only manner.  He was not in reality more conceited than most small dogs who wear their tails high.

Hester saw them drive off, and a few minutes later Mr. Gresley started on his bicycle for a ruridecanal chapter meeting in the opposite direction.  She heard the Vicarage gate “clink” behind him as she crossed the little hall, and then she suddenly stopped short and wrung her hands.  She had forgotten to tell either of them that the Bishop of Southminster was going to call that afternoon.  She knew he was coming on purpose to see her, but this would have been incredible to the Gresleys.  She had not read Rachel’s letter announcing his coming till she had taken refuge in the field where she had fallen asleep, and her mental equilibrium had been so shaken by the annoyance she felt she had caused the Gresleys at luncheon that she had entirely forgotten the subject till this moment.

She darted out of the house and flew down the little drive.  But Fortune frowned on Hester to-day.  She reached the turn of the road only to see the bent figure of Mr. Gresley whisk swiftly out of sight, his clerical coat-tails flowing gracefully out behind like a divided skirt on each side of the back wheel.

Hester toiled back to the house breathless and dusty, and ready to cry with vexation.  “They will never believe I forgot to tell them,” she said to herself.  “Everything I do is wrong in their eyes and stupid in my own.”  And she sat down on the lowest step of the stairs and leaned her head against the banisters.

To her presently came a ministering angel in the shape of Fraeulein, who had begged an egg from the cook, had boiled it over her spirit-lamp, and now presented it with effusion to her friend on a little tray, with two thin slices of bread-and-butter.