the daughter," Ripton sighed, and surrendering to pressure,
hurried on recklessly, "A runaway match--beautiful girl!--the only
son of a baronet--married by special licence. A--the point is," he now
brightened and spoke from his own element, "the point is whether the
marriage can be annulled, as she's of the Catholic persuasion and he's a
Protestant, and they're both married under age. That's the point."

Having come to the point he breathed extreme relief, and saw things more
distinctly; not a little amazed at his leader's horrified face.

The two elders were making various absurd inquiries, when Richard sent
his chair to the floor, crying, "What a muddle you're in, Rip! You're
mixing half-a-dozen stories together. The old lady I told you about was
old Dame Bakewell, and the dispute was concerning a neighbour of hers
who encroached on her garden, and I said I'd pay the money to see her
righted!"

"Ah," said Ripton, humbly, "I was thinking of the other. Her garden!
Cabbages don't interest me"--

"Here, come along," Richard beckoned to him savagely. "I'll be back in
five minutes, uncle," he nodded coolly to either.

The young men left the room. In the hall-passage they met Berry, dressed
to return to Raynham. Richard dropped a helper to the intelligence
into his hand, and warned him not to gossip much of London. Berry bowed
perfect discreetness.

"What on earth induced you to talk about Protestants and Catholics
marrying, Rip?" said Richard, as soon as they were in the street.

"Why," Ripton answered, "I was so hard pushed for it, 'pon my honour,
I didn't know what to say. I ain't an author, you know; I can't make
a story. I was trying to invent a point, and I couldn't think of any
other, and I thought that was just the point likely to make a jolly good
dispute. Capital dinners they give at those crack hotels. Why did you
throw it all upon me? I didn't begin on the old lady."

The hero mused, "It's odd! It's impossible you could have known! I'll
tell you why, Rip! I wanted to try you. You fib well at long range, but
you don't do at close quarters and single combat. You're good behind
walls, but not worth a shot in the open. I just see what you're fit for.
You're staunch--that I am certain of. You always were. Lead the way to
one of the parks--down in that direction. You know?--where she is!"

Ripton led the way. His dinner had prepared this young Englishman to
defy the whole artillery of established morals. With