ointed seasons, and no one ever gives them a second thought, poor old
respectable things! but the moment a comet appears in the sky everyone
rushes out to gaze at it, and the newspapers deal with it from day to
day, and the illustrated papers give its portrait. Nothing could be more
unorthodox than your comet. Oh, Phyllis, my child, don't talk nowadays
of orthodoxy or the other--what do they call it?--heterodoxy. Mr.
Holland's name will be in everyone's mouth for the next year at least,
and if his bishop or a friendly church warden prosecutes him, and the
thing is worked up properly, he ought to be before the public for the
next five years."

"Oh, Ella!"

"I'm not overstating the case, I assure you, my dear. A man was telling
me about one Colenso--he was, so far as I could gather, a first-class
man at algebra and heresy and things like that. He was Bishop
of Zanzibar or Uganda or some place, and he wrote a book about
Moses--showing that Moses couldn't have written something or other.
Well, he took a bit of prosecuting, five or six years, I believe, and
he didn't go nearly so far as Mr. Holland does in that book of his. All
this time people talked about little else but Colenso, and his books
made him a fortune. That was before our time, dear--when the newspapers
weren't worked as they are now. Block printing has made more heroes than
the longest campaign on record. Yes, Mr. Courtland said so two days
ago. I think I'll try some more of that lovely cake: it's like warm
ice, isn't it? Oh, you'll not be so foolish as to throw over your Mr.
Holland."

"It is already done," said Phyllis. "I'm so glad that you like the cake.
It is very subtle. What a delightful idea--warm ice!"

"Never mind the cake. I want to hear more of this matter of Mr.
Holland," said Ella. "Do you mean to tell me plainly that you threw
over Mr. Holland because he wrote a book that will bring him fame and
fortune?"

"I have thrown over Mr. Holland because he has written a book to make
people have contempt for the Bible," said Phyllis.

"Then all I can say is that you were never in love with the man," cried
Ella.

"You may say that if you please."

"I do say it. If a girl really loves a man, she will marry him even
though he should write a book against Darwin. If a girl really loves a
man she will stand by him all the closer when he is undergoing a course
of honorable persecution, with his portrait in every paper that one
picks up."

"I dare sa