e moved around the room restlessly.

"Well, all I can say is"--(her voice shook and her eyes reproached
Frederik)--"I'm disappointed in your uncle."

No one paid any attention to her remark, each person being engrossed in
his own thoughts. For some moments the air was pregnant with unspoken
invective.

CHAPTER XII

MOSTLY CONCERNING GRATITUDE

Finally Colonel Lawton turned toward Frederik. He was now sitting
astride his chair and puffing violently at his cigar.

"Is _this_ what you hauled us out in the rain for?" he snarled.

Mrs. Batholommey, all unheeding, went on with her own train of thought.

"I see it all now," she whimpered. "He only gave to the church to show
off!"

"Rose!" her husband cried, aghast. "I myself am disappointed, but----"

"_He did!_" interrupted Mrs. Batholommey in tears of wrath. "Oh, why
didn't he continue his work? He was not generous. He was a hard,
uncharitable, selfish old man."

"Rose, my dear!" remonstrated Mr. Batholommey. "Think what you are
saying!"

"He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation
sicked _you_ after him. And now he's gone and you'll get nothing more.
And they'll call you slow--slow and pokey! You'll see! To-morrow you'll
wake up!"

"My dear!" expostulated her husband once more.

But Mrs. Batholommey paid no attention to his words or to the beseeching
look that accompanied them. She waved an arm dramatically.

"Here's a man the rector spent half his time with--and for what? A watch
fob!"

The ineffable scorn with which she pronounced these last words caused
Mr. Batholommey to hang his head.

"You'll see!" she went on. "This will be the end of you! It's not what
you preach that counts nowadays. It's what you coax out of the rich
parishioners' pockets."

"Mrs. Batholommey!" thundered the clergyman, taking a step forward; but
he might as well have tried to stem the ocean.

"The church needs funds to-day. Religion doesn't stand where it did,
when a college professor is saying that--that--"--(here her voice
broke)--"the Star of Bethlehem was only a comet."

The end of the sentence resolved itself into a veritable wail and she
sat down quickly and subsided into her handkerchief.

"My dear!" reiterated the helpless husband.

"Oh!" she wailed through her tears, "if I said all the things I feel
like saying about Peter Grimm"--(here it almost sounded as if she ground
her teeth)--"well--I shouldn't be a fit clergyman's wife. N