hough it _is_ nigh
twenty years since we were in the ring together, and you've got into a
black coat and a dog-collar. Fancy them making a parson of you; Lord,
who'd have thought it! Well, I've had a leg-up, too, since then. I'm
Madame Benotti now. The old lady died, and he made me missus of himself
and the show. He often talks about you, and wouldn't he stare, just, to
see you in this rig-out!"

By the time, the Rev. Thomas Todd had recovered himself sufficiently to
speak, and had decided that a bold course was the safest.

"I'm really glad to see you again," he said, with a shuddering thought
of the fate of Ananias; "it reminds me so of the old times. But, you
see, things are changed with me. You remember the old gentleman who
adopted me, and took me away from the circus? Well, he sent me to school
and college, and then set his heart on my becoming, as you say, a
parson. I haven't forgotten the old days, but--but you see, if the
people round here knew about my having been----"

"Lor' bless you, Tommy," broke in the good-natured _equestrienne_, "you
don't think I'd be so mean as to go and queer an old pal's pitch; you've
nothing to fear from me; don't be afraid, there's nobody coming"--for
the curate was looking distractedly round. "Well, I'm mighty glad to
have seen you again, even in this get-up, but I won't stop and talk to
you any longer, or one of your flock might come round the corner, and
then--O my! wouldn't there be a rumpus? Ha, ha, ha!"

She laughed loudly, and the clergyman looked round again in an agony.

"Now, Tommy, good-bye to you, and good luck. But look here, before you
go, just for the sake of the old times, when you were 'little Sandy,'
and I used to do the bare-backed business, you'll give us a kiss, won't
you, old man?"

And before the unhappy curate could prevent her, Madame Benotti had
flung her muscular arms round his neck, and imprinted two sounding
kisses on his cheeks.

At that fatal moment, a female figure came round the bend of the road,
and, to his indescribable horror, the curate recognised the dread form
of the Vicar's daughter. She had seen all--of that there could be no
doubt, but she came on, passed them, and continued on her way to Grubley
without the smallest sign of recognition.

"My goodness, Tommy, I hope that old cat wasn't one of your flock,"
remarked Madame Benotti, with real concern, as soon as she had passed.
"You look as scared as if you had seen a ghost; I hope I