be the
bridesmaid, and all will be hay and sunshine.'

'What nonsense you talk, George!'

'I'd do more than talk nonsense if the eyes of Europe were not on us.
Mother Jael is telling fortunes in that tent, my fairy queen, so let us
go in and question her about the future. Besides,' added George, with an
insinuating smile, 'I don't suppose she would mind if I gave you one
kiss.'

Mab laughed and shook her head. 'You will have to dispense with both
kiss and fortune for the present,' said she, 'for your father has this
moment gone into the tent.'

'What! is Saul also among the prophets?' cried George, with uplifted
eyebrows. 'Won't there be a shine in the tents of Shem when it is
published abroad that Bishop Pendle has patronised the Witch of Endor. I
wonder what he wants to know. Surely the scroll of his fortune is made
up.'

'George,' said Mab, gravely, 'your father has been much worried lately.'

'About what? By whom?'

'I don't know, but he looks worried.'

'Oh, he is fidgeting because my mother is away; he always fusses about
her health like a hen with one chick.'

'Be more respectful, my dear,' corrected Mab, demurely.

'I'll be anything you like, sweet prude, if you'll only fly with me far
from this madding crowd. Hang it! here is someone coming to disturb us.'

'It is your brother.'

'So it is. Hullo, Gabriel, why that solemn brow?'

'I have just heard bad news,' said Gabriel, pausing before them. 'Old Mr
Leigh is dying.'

'What! the rector of Heathcroft? I don't call that bad news, old boy,
seeing that his death gives you your step.'

'George!' cried Mab and Gabriel in a breath, 'how can you?'

'Well, Leigh is old and ripe enough to die, isn't he?' said the
incorrigible George. 'Remember what the old Scotch sexton said to the
weeping mourners, "What are ye greeting aboot? If ye dinna bring them
at eighty, when wull ye bring them?" My Scotch accent is bad,' added
Captain Pendle, 'but the story itself is a thing of beauty.'

'I want to tell my father the news,' said Gabriel, indignantly turning
away from George's wink. 'Where is he?'

'With Moth--Oh, there he is,' cried Mab, as the bishop issued from the
sibyl's tent. 'Oh, George, how ill he looks!'

'By Jove, yes! He is as pale as a ghost. Come and see what is wrong,
Gabriel. Excuse me a moment, Mab.'

The two brothers walked forward, but before they could reach their
father he was already taking his leave and shaking hands with Mrs
Panse