----"

"Oh, indeed we do," chimed in Mrs. Batholommey. "And, as Dr. McPherson
just said, there may perhaps be no reason,--with proper care--why you
shouldn't----"

"A blundering rector must be put up with because of his cloth. But when
it comes to a blundering rectorette, there ought to be a line drawn!"

It was McPherson who said it. He addressed no one, but seemed to be
confining his heretical sentiments to the window seat. Also he spoke in
a gruff undertone--that filled the room like far off thunder.

Peter Grimm flung himself into the breach, even before the wave of
outraged red could gush to Mrs. Batholommey's shaking visage.

"Will you--will you have a glass of plum brandy?" he asked her, and then
caught himself with the scared grin of a very guilty schoolboy.

"I thank you," she retorted, safe for the moment in the full majesty of
Temperance. "I do not take such things. Perhaps you forget I am the
President of our local W. C. T. U. and the----"

"The Little Brothers of the Artesian Well," added Grimm, "or whatever
they call it. I remember. And I'm sorry. I wouldn't tempt you from your
principles for the world. Forgive me. How about _you_, Pastor? A little
drop of plum brandy, for--for--let's see, what is it St. Paul says
about----?"

"Thank you, no," declined the rector, with an apprehensive gesture
towards his wife.

"Oh, come, come!" urged Peter hospitably. "Why, the other evening when
you dropped over here after the vespers, sir, you----"

"I only use it when absolutely needful for medicinal purposes," insisted
the rector hurriedly. "Not to-day, I thank you."

"I believe," said Peter irrelevantly, "that St. Paul was a single man,
was he not, Pastor?"

[Illustration: "I believe," said Peter irrelevantly, "that St. Paul was
a single man, was he not, Pastor?"]

"I--I believe so. It is not definitely known. But why?"

"I was only wondering," mused Peter, "how he would have accounted to St.
Pauline, or whatever his wife's name would have been, for what he wrote
in favour of 'a little wine for--'"

"Oh," explained Mrs. Batholommey, still safe, and ever feeling safer,
now that temperance was again the theme, "St. Paul referred to
unfermented wine, you know. Every one ought to understand that. It is so
hard to make people see the difference."

"One bottle would convince them," said Peter very gravely.

"No," Mrs. Batholommey corrected him with serene loftiness. "You do not
quite get my point, dear