sn't any residue--
scarcely a penny more when all is realised--except the pension, of
course." Unmasking her batteries with sudden spite, she added, "Even
between you I couldn't be robbed of _that!_"

Parson Jack controlled himself. He was genuinely sorry for the woman.
But either cheek showed a red spot and his voice shook a little as he
answered, "This is a trifle gratuitous, then--your talk about undue
influence."

"The proof of the pudding is in the eating," replied Mrs. Flood, with a
small and vicious titter; not because she believed him to be guilty or
that it would do any good, but simply because her instinct told her it
would hurt.

"That seems to close the discussion." Parson Jack bowed with honest, if
clumsy, dignity. "I am sorry, madam, for what you have told me; but my
regrets had better be expressed to Major Bromham."

"_Regrets_, indeed!" sniffed Mrs. Flood.

And these were the last words he ever heard from her. A minute later he
found himself in the street, walking towards the Hoe and drawing deep
breaths as his lungs felt the sea-breeze. He had not the least notion
of his direction; but as he went he muttered to himself; and for a
parson's his words sounded deplorably like swearing.

"Hi! hi!" called a shrill voice behind him. He swung right about and
found himself frowning down upon Master Dick.

"How did you like it?" inquired that youngster, panting. "She's a
caution, the mater; but it wasn't a patch on what I've heard her promise
to give you if ever she sets eyes on you."

"Indeed? How do you know, pray?"

"Why, I listened at the door, of course," was the unabashed reply.
"But I don't believe a word of it, you know," he added reassuringly.

"A word of what?"

"That rot about undue influence."

"I thank you. Did you follow me to tell me this?"

"Well, I dunno. Yes, I guess I did. You're a white man; I saw that at
once, though you _do_ smoke a clay pipe."

"Thank you again for the reminder." Parson Jack pulled out his clay and
filled it. "So I'm a white man?"

Dick nodded. "I'm not saying anything about the legacy. That's hard
lines on us, of course; but I believe you. There's no chance of my
being a gentleman now, like you; but"--with a wry grin--"I'm not the
sort of chap to bear malice."

They had walked on through the gate leading to the Hoe, and were in full
view now of the splendid panorama of the Sound.

"And why shouldn't you be a gentleman?" asked Parson J