“Scold you!”

“Oh dear, yes; he always scolded me if he thought there was anything wrong, especially about giving the children holidays.  But he does it now more than ever.”

“How do you bear it?”

“In a half-and-half sort of a way.  I laugh at him, and then do as I’m bid.  He makes everybody do what he bids them at Clavering—­except papa, sometimes.  But he scolds him, too.  I heard him the other day in the library.”

“And did my father take it from him?”

“He did, in a sort of a way.  I don’t think papa likes him; but then he knows, and we all know, that he is so good.  He never spares himself in anything.  He has nothing but his curacy, and what he gives away is wonderful.”

“I hope he won’t take to scolding me,” said Harry, proudly.

“As you don’t concern yourself about the parish, I should say that you’re safe.  I suppose he thinks mamma does everything right, for he never scolds her.”

“There is no talk of his going away.”

“None at all.  I think we should all be sorry, because he does so much good.”

Florence reigned supreme in the estimation of the rectory family all the evening of her arrival and till after breakfast the next morning, but then the bride elect was restored to her natured preeminence.  This, however, lasted only for two days, after which the bride was taken away.  The wedding was very nice, and pretty, and comfortable; and the people of Clavering were much better satisfied with it than they had been with that other marriage which has been mentioned as having been celebrated in Clavering Church.  The rectory family was generally popular, and everybody wished well to the daughter who was being given away.  When they were gone there was a breakfast at the rectory, and speeches were made with much volubility.  On such an occasion the rector was a great man, and Harry also shone in conspicuous rivalry with his father.  But Mr. Saul’s spirit was not so well tuned to the occasion as that of the rector or his son, and when he got upon his legs, and mournfully expressed a hope that his friend Mm Fielding might be enabled to bear the trials of this life with fortitude, it was felt by them all that the speaking had better be brought to an end.

“You shouldn’t laugh at him, Harry,” Fanny said to her brother afterward, almost seriously.  “One man can do one thing and one another.  You can make a speech better than he can, but I don’t think you could preach so good a sermon.”

“I declare I think you’re getting fond of him, after all,” said Harry.  Upon hearing this Fanny turned away with a look of great offence.  “No one but a brother,” said she, “would say such a thing as that to me, because I don’t like to hear the poor man ridiculed without cause.”  That evening, when they were alone, Fanny told Florence the whole story about Mr. Saul.  “I tell you, you know, because you’re like one of ourselves now.  It has never been mentioned to any one out of the family.”