f free sight-seers, and a leaven of real workers.

On the platform with the bishop and other notables, both men and women,
sat Mrs. Swinton, and she sighed with unspeakable weariness. It had been
one of those dull, monotonous, clerical days, replete with platitudes,
the tedium of custom, and all the petty ceremonies and observances that
she hated. She returned home worn out physically, and mentally benumbed.
Netty, who had remained away, on pretence of a bad cold, met her mother
in the hall.

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come. Polly's in the drawing-room, and she says
she's come to see what a high tea is like, and to be introduced to the
dear bishop. Muriel West and Major Joicy are with her. They're singing
comic songs at the piano."

Mrs. Swinton looked annoyed. So far, she had avoided any clashing between
her smart friends and her clerical acquaintances. Mrs. Ocklebourne was
the last person in the world she wanted to see to-day.

"Ah, here's our dear, saintly Mary, with her hands full of prayer-books!"
exclaimed Polly Ocklebourne, as her hostess came into the room. "So glad
you're home, dear. This little handful of sinners wants to be put through
its paces before coming into the rarefied atmosphere of bishops and
things. Where is the dear man?"

"He is coming later, with John."

"I hope you don't mind our coming, but we're awfully curious to see you
presiding at a high tea, with the bishop's lady and her satellites. What
are you going to feed the dears on, Mary? You'll ask us to stay, won't
you? And, if I laugh, you'll find excuses for me."

"Don't be absurd, Polly. I'd very much rather you hadn't come--you know
that. But, since you're here, do try to be normal."

"There you are!" cried racy Mrs. Ocklebourne, turning to her companions
with a tragic expression; "I told you she wouldn't stretch out a hand to
save sinners. But methinks I scent the cloth of the cleric, and I am sure
I detect the camphor wherein furs have lain all summer. Come, Mary,
bridge the gulf between the sheep and the goats, and introduce us to the
bishop."

"An unexpected pleasure," exclaimed the rector, who had just entered the
room, coming forward to greet Mrs. Ocklebourne. "You should have come to
the ceremony? We had a most eloquent address from the bishop--let me make
you known to each other."

"Delighted," murmured Mrs. Ocklebourne, with a smirk at her hostess, who
was supremely uncomfortable, "and I do so want to know your dear wife,