steps as we leave the
choir. Forgive these suggestions; the _practical_ utility of the organ
is so much overlooked in these days. When Mr Noot is taking the
service it does not so much matter, but when I am here myself I beg that
there may be no more fugue."

The visit of the Bishop of Carisbury to Cullerne was an important
matter, and necessitated some forethought and arrangement.

"The Bishop must, of course, lunch with us," Mrs Parkyn said to her
husband; "you will ask him, of course, to lunch, my dear."

"Oh yes, certainly," replied the Canon; "I wrote yesterday to ask him to
lunch."

He assumed an unconcerned air, but with only indifferent success, for
his heart misgave him that he had been guilty of an unpardonable breach
of etiquette in writing on so important a subject without reference to
his wife.

"Really, my dear!" she rejoined--"really! I hope at least that your
note was couched in proper terms."

"Psha!" he said, a little nettled in his turn, "do you suppose I have
never written to a Bishop before?"

"That is not the point; _any_ invitation of this kind should always be
given by me. The Bishop, if he has any _breeding_, will be very much
astonished to receive an invitation to lunch that is not given by the
lady of the house. This, at least, is the usage that prevails among
persons of _breeding_." There was just enough emphasis in the
repetition of the last formidable word to have afforded a _casus belli_,
if the Rector had been minded for the fray; but he was a man of peace.

"You are quite right, my dear," was the soft answer; "it was a slip of
mine, which we must hope the Bishop will overlook. I wrote in a hurry
yesterday afternoon, as soon as I received the official information of
his coming. You were out calling, if you recollect, and I had to catch
the post. One never knows what tuft-hunting may not lead people to do;
and if I had not caught the post, some pushing person or other might
quite possibly have asked him sooner. I meant, of course, to have
reported the matter to you, but it slipped my memory."

"Really," she said, with fine deprecation, being only half pacified, "I
do not see who there _could_ be to ask the Bishop except ourselves.
Where should the Bishop of Carisbury lunch in Cullerne except at the
Rectory?" In this unanswerable conundrum she quenched the smouldering
embers of her wrath. "I have no doubt, dear, that you did it all for
the best, and I hate these vulga