oment. "Are you showing Esther the new rose, Angus?
Such a disappointment, Esther, my dear! I had quite made up my mind that
it was to be red. It came out pink, and such a beautifully strong
plant--such a waste! I simply can't make myself care for pink roses.
They are so common. Was I very long? You must both be starved. I know I
am. Won't you come upstairs, Esther, and put off your hat?"

Esther intimated that she would. Just now, she had no desire for the
further company of Mr. Macnair. She was conscious even of a faint
stirring of dislike. Therefore the eagerness with which she followed
Miss Annabel filled that good lady with hospitable reproach.

"I didn't intend to be so long," she apologised, "but you know what
choir-leaders are? And Angus won't speak to him. I can't make Angus out
lately. Tell me," abruptly, as they stood in the cool front room with
its closed green shutters, "did _you_ notice anything peculiar
about Angus?"

"No," in surprise, "is he peculiar?"

"Quite. He's getting fussy. He never used to be fussy. The trouble was
to induce him to be fussy enough. Except over church matters. But this
morning he was just like an ordinary man. About his collar" (Miss
Annabel had a fascinating habit of disjointing her sentences anywhere)
"nothing suited him. And you know, Esther, what care I always take with
his collars. He said they were too shiny. Of course they're shiny. Why
not? He said he noticed that men weren't wearing shine on their collars
now. Fancy that!"

"Not really?" Esther's fresh laugh rang out.

"Well, words to that effect. He asked me if I wanted to make him a
laughing stock before the congregation. Did you ever? And he _banged
the door_!"

"Does he not bang doors usually?"

"Never. And he banged it hard. It shook the house."

"But people have to bang doors, hard, sometimes, even ministers. I
wouldn't worry if I were you. It probably did him the world of good. As
for the collars--he may have been noticing Dr. Callandar's. Mrs. Sykes
says the doctor sends all his laundry to the city."

"You don't say? And is it different from ours?"

"I--yes, I think it does look different."

"How did you happen to notice it? Oh, Esther, you aren't really carrying
on with that strange young man, are you?"

The girl's cheek flamed. The question, she knew, was void of offence.
"Carrying on" meant nothing, but the homely phrase seemed suddenly very
displeasing--horribly vulgar! Her very ears burned. W