thing of
his private life--"

"Nor do I," said Val rather wearily. "But what does any man know
of another man's private life? If you come to that, Jim, what do
you know of Rowsley's--or mine?"

"Pouf, nonsense!" said Mr. Stafford.

At his feet lay a small black cat, curled up in the attitude of a
comma. Before going on he inserted one toe under her waist,
rapidly turned her upside down, and chucked her under her ruffled
and indignant chin.

"Val, my boy, has any one repeated to you a nasty bit of gossip
that's going about the village?"

"This violence to a lady!" Val held out his hand and made small
coaxing noises with his lips. But Amelia after a cold stare
walked away and sat down in the middle of the floor, turning
her back and sticking out a refined but implacable tail. "There
now! you've hurt her feelings."

"Of course there's nothing in it--on one side at least. But I
can't help wondering whether Hyde . . . . our dear Laura would
naturally be the last to hear of it. But Hyde's a man of the
world and knows how quickly tongues begin to wag. In Laura's
unprotected position he ought to be doubly careful."

"He ought."

"But he is not. Now is that designed or accidental? We'll allow
him the benefit of the doubt and call it an error of judgment.
Then some one ought to give him a hint."

"Some one would be knocked down for his pains."

"D'you think he'd knock me down?" asked Mr. Stafford, casting a
comical glance over his slender elderly frame.

"Hardly," said Val laughing. "But--no, Jim, it wouldn't do.
Too formal, too official." His real objection was that Mr.
Stafford would base his appeal on ethical and spiritual grounds,
which were not likely to influence Lawrence, as Val read him.
"But if you like I'll give him a hint myself. I can do it
informally; and I very nearly did it as long ago as last June.
Hyde is amenable to treatment if he's taken quietly."

Mr. Stafford, by temperament and training a member of the Church
Militant, clearly felt a trifle disappointed, but he had little
petty vanity and accepted Val's amendment without a murmur. "Very
well, if you think you can do it better! I don't care who does
it so long as it's done." The clock struck. "Half past eleven is
that? Isabel can't be home before four. Dear me, how I hate
these ridiculous hours, turning night into day!" As some
correspondents put the point of a letter into a postscript, so
the vicar in returning to his Ch