uld."

"And what did that clergyman do?" I asked.

"Jumped on his bicycle and went 'ome to his tea," said the old woman.

"The sneak!" I cried.

"You couldn't ha' used a better word," said the old woman, "and there's
plenty of people in this parish who'd be glad to hear you say it. And
the worst of it is, there's plenty more like him!" This last was shouted
with great emphasis, perhaps with a view to Conklin's edification, but
at all events with the air of a person who could produce supporting
evidence were such to be demanded.

There was a pause, and I endeavoured to collect my thoughts. "Doctor," I
said, making a desperate attempt to get as near the Good Samaritan as
these untoward developments rendered possible, "Doctor, what's your
fee?"

"The expression on your face is the best fee I've had for a long time,"
said the doctor; "I'm sorry I didn't bring my kodak."

"Doctor Conklin," I resumed, "I'll tell you one thing. You and this old
lady are the only members of the company who carry away an untarnished
reputation from this episode. As for me, I have been made a perfect fool
of. As for the rest of them,"--I waited for words to come, and, finally
lapsing into melodrama, said--"as for the rest of them, I leave them to
the company of their own consciences."

"There's one of 'em as hasn't got any," said the old woman.

"MACBETH" AND "BANQUO" ON THE BLASTED HEATH

The scene was the top of a lofty hill in Northamptonshire, crossed by
the high road to London. The time, late afternoon of a dark and
thunderous day in July.

I had journeyed many miles that day--on wheels, according to the fashion
of this age--and had passed and overtaken hundreds, literally hundreds,
of tramps. With some of these I had already conversed as we sheltered
from recurrent storms under hedges or wayside trees; and I had
committed, with a joyful conscience, all the vices of indiscriminate
charity.

But now the rain came on in earnest. Blacker and blacker grew the skies,
and, just as I reached the top of this shelterless hill, the windows of
heaven were opened, and the flood burst.

No house was in sight. But, looking round me, in that spirit of despair
bred of black weather and a wet skin, I saw, in a large bare field, a
shepherd's box--a thing on wheels, large enough, perhaps, to accommodate
a prosperous vendor of ice-cream. Abandoning my iron friend to the cold
mercies of the ditch, I scaled the wall, crossed the field, and