recovered himself in time to
say he did not.

"That is a pity; our choir is so excellent--two violins, a viola,
clarinet, 'cello, double bass, the trumpets and drums, and of course the
organ. Our organist himself----"

At that moment a young clergyman came into the room, making apologies and
bowing subserviently.

"Ah, this is Mr. Golightly--the-h'm--Hon. and Rev. Mr. Storm.--You will
take charge of Mr. Storm and bring him to church on Sunday morning."

Mr. Golightly delivered his message. It was about the organist. His wife
had called to say that he had been removed to the hospital for some
slight operation, and there was some difficulty about the singer of
Sunday morning's anthem.

"Most irritating! Bring her up." The curate went out backward. "I shall
ask you to excuse me, Mr. Storm. My daughter, Felicity--ah, here she is."

A tall young woman in spectacles entered.

"This is our new housemate, Mr. Storm, nephew of dear Lord Erin.
Felicity, my child, I wish you to drive Mr. Storm round and introduce him
to our people, for I always say a young clergyman in London----"

John Storm mumbled something about the Prime Minister.

"Going to pay your respects to your uncle now? Very good and proper. Next
week will do for the visits. Yes, yes. Come in, Mrs. Koenig."

A meek, middle-aged woman had appeared at the door. She was dark, and had
deep luminous eyes with the moist look to be seen in the eyes of a tired
old terrier.

"This is the wife of our organist and choir master. Good day! Kindest
greetings to the Prime Minister.... And, by the way, let us say Monday
for the beginning of your chaplaincy at the hospital."

The Earl of Erin, as First Lord of the Treasury, occupied the narrow,
unassuming brick house which is the Treasury residence in Downing Street.
Although the official head of the Church, with power to appoint its
bishops and highest dignitaries, he was secretly a sceptic, if not openly
a derider of spiritual things. For this attitude his early love passage
had been chiefly accountable. That strife between duty and passion which
had driven the woman he loved to religion had driven him in the other
direction and left a broad swath of desolation in his soul. He had seen
little of his brother since that evil time, and nothing whatever of his
brother's son. Then John had written, "I am soon to be bound by the awful
tie of the priesthood," and he had thought it necessary to do something
for him. When John