d Bindlecombe.

I walked away with Alison, the Rector, for whom I had a great liking. He
was a fine fellow, physically and mentally--a tall, strong-built man of
forty, with a keen blue eye. He had "done wonders," as they say, in
Catsford and was on the sure road to promotion--if he would take it. He
was sincere, pious, and humble; but his humility was personal. It did
not extend to his office or to the claims of the Church he represented.

He asked me if I would lay before Jenny the merits of a fund he was
raising to build yet another new district church, to meet the ever
growing needs of Catsford. I replied that I had no doubt she would be
glad to give a donation.

"So far, so good," said Alison--but his tone did not sound contented.

"She's sure to give something substantial--she's like her father in
that."

"In the way of money I had nothing to complain of from Mr. Driver.
Anything else I suppose you'll tell me I couldn't expect, as he was a
Unitarian."

"I remember he used to say he'd been brought up a Unitarian."

"That's what we seem to be coming to! When it's a question of a man's
religion, you remember what he used to say he was brought up as!"
Alison's tone became sarcastic. "Well, then, his daughter's a
Church-woman, isn't she--by the same excellent evidence?"

"She lived five years in a clergyman's family," I answered
discreetly--feeling that it was safer to stick to indisputable facts.
"She attends church fairly often, doesn't she?"

"Yes, fairly often." He repeated my words with a contemptuous grimace.
"People who attend church fairly often, Austin, are the people whom, if
the good old days could come back, I should like to burn."

"Of course you would. You all would, if you dared say so."

"Just two or three to start with. I should like it done very
conspicuously--in the market place."

"The worst of it is that you're really quite sincere in all this."

He pressed my arm. "I don't want to burn you. You've thought, though
you've thought wrong. And you've been through tribulation. It's the
people who in their hearts just don't----"

"Care a damn?" I profanely suggested.

"Yes," he agreed with a laugh and a grip on my wrist which distinctly
hurt.

"But I don't think Miss Driver's quite one of those. At any rate she's
intellectually interested--talks about things, and so on."

He nodded. "Yes, I daresay. Well, she's a remarkable girl. Look
here--she's worth having, and I'm going to try to